Version 2
by NorthernTrash-x
Summary: More Bleach ficlets, for a range of characters, pairings and scenarios. Yaoi/Yuri/Het/AU/OC/etc. Open for requests.
1. Slide

A Challenge: Version 2.0- because even the best things need a little upgrade once in a while

Most of this, I predict, will end up being made of requests, which I hope people will continue to send in. I write… pretty much anything, really. If you've read the original 'A Challenge', then you'll know that. To those joining me here, I hope you enjoy and leave me some feedback. To those wonderful people who have returned after the first instalment, thank you for your continuing support. Now, onwards!

Kisuke and Yoruichi

**Slide**

"Are you sure its okay to do this?"

She turned to smile at him, dazzlingly wide and convincing. Her eyes were lit up with the fire of adventure that he knew he had no way of dousing, not now they were here and so very close.

"Yes, its fine. No-one is around, so stop _worrying_."

"I'm not worrying, but what if someone sees us?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"You've not been adverse to taking risks before, idiot, and no one will. It's the middle of the night."

"Sure?"

"Sure. And if anyone does, we'll just hide."

Suddenly his smile was as bright as hers, and she realised that he had been teasing her. He was just as uncompromisingly excited as she was right now. This was the sort of thing that they had always wanted to do, but had never been allowed.

"Okay. Push!"

And with that, and a loud laugh that rang through the deserted park, Kisuke pushed Yoruichi down the slide in the children's playground, and jumped on after her, landing in a hysterical heap at the bottom.


	2. Fucked

Ashfial.5Bleach, yes. With pleasure.

Kisuke x Ryuuken x Isshin

**Fucked**

Urahara woke feeling decidedly... unusual. There was an ache in his arms and a soreness in his rear end, and all he could see was a shadowed roof, and the airy billowing of expensive looking curtains. He craned his head forward, but could only see the foot of the bed, but when he stretched his neck backwards, he could see handcuffs.

"Damn."

"You said it."

Kisuke jumped, and threw his head to one side.

"Oh, god."

Isshin grinned at him, eyes still half-closed with foggy sleep. He was handcuffed too, on the other side of the double bed, torso bare but covered from the waist down with the same sheet that was covering Kisuke who was, he realised, naked too. Isshin was pulling on the chains that kept them imprisoned, rattling them hard. Kisuke, after a moment, joined in.

"Stop forcing them, it won't work."

The two looked up in sync, staring at the door. Ryuuken Ishida was leaning against the frame, in his carefully pressed suit trousers and his tailored blue shirt unbuttoned. A sudden flash of memory cut through Kisuke's developing hangover. A bar. Isshin. Alcohol. A prank. Karakura Hospital. The Directors office. A Quincy working late. More alcohol.

Oh.

"So, Ryuu, are you going to let us go?"

"Don't call me that, Kurosaki."

Kisuke tilted his head slightly as he caught sight of the pale, toned plane of Ryuuken's chest get slowly covered as he buttoned his shirt, watching the two on the bed with level eyes and a cool expression.

"And no, I am not going to let you go."

Kisuke blinked.

"How come, Ryuu?"

"Don't call me that, Urahara."

He selected a tie from a carefully organised rack on the dresser, and opened up his shirt collar, slinging the blue tie around his neck.

"And, I am keeping you here so that you will be here when I get back."

Ryuuken raised an eyebrow at the two of them, finished knotting his tie, and swept out of the door. Several seconds later, they heard the front door click shut.

Isshin turned to one side, and blinked owlishly at Kisuke.

"We're fucked, aren't we?"

Kisuke flexed his arms, trying to stop them from cramping.

"Entirely."

He cracked his neck.

"As long as we're talking literally, then I can wait."


	3. Wine

Requested by fruitbat- thank you

Lisa x Kisuke

**Wine**

"Woah. Moderation, you know."

She glared at him from across the table, sorely regretting not going out with the rest of the Vizards. Staying at home with Urahara was shaping up to be a bad idea. She should have listened to Cap- Kensei. She had to remind herself to drop the 'Captain' and 'Lieutenant' titles these days. It had only been a few weeks, but already the rules and regulations of the Soul Society were slipping away.

Rules like drinking on duty.

But then, she supposed she wasn't on duty anymore.

Which was why, when Kisuke had poured himself a glass of wine, she had pulled a second glass from the cupboard and pushed it towards him.

"Seriously, don't drink it so quick."

"Shut up, Urahara."

"No."

She glared again, and grabbed for the bottle, filling her glass once more. She drunk half of it in one mouthful, her expression decidedly unimpressed. He was smiling at her without change from behind the fan he'd bought on his first day in exile. She _really_ didn't like that fan.

"I really can't wait until we get our own place, away from you. I'm going to my room."

She downed the rest of her second, clinked the empty glass on the table and got to her feet, but lurched slightly as she did.

"Told you so. You're not used to alcohol, are you?"

"Shut up, Urahara!"

She closed her eyes and tried to make her limbs move the way that they were supposed to, but her calf still hit the table, regardless. She heard the clink of the bottle as it fell over and rolled onto the floor, and winced.

"I told you so."

There was a soft background glug as the rest of the wine spilled onto the floor, staining it a dark red. The back of her mind was lecturing her, telling her it was going to stain, but she was destracted by the strange gold his hair had turned as he stood directly under the light. His voice was soft, quiet: his breath was warm on her cheek. His hand was suddenly on her wrist, steadying her.

She hadn't even heard him move.

She opened his eyes, and he was terrifyingly close, the annoying smile still on his mouth. She wondered, for a brief, insane moment, whether she could kiss it right away.

Her voice was hoarse, but she did not know why.

"And I told you… shut up."

The smile widened, and almost immediately he felt her body press up against his own, her mouth on his, warm, tasting a little still of the wine. His hands found themselves on her sides, then slipped under the back of her shirt, against the heat of her skin, effectively silenced.


	4. Thief

Stark x Lilinette

**Thief**

He glared down at her.

"You took them."

"Took what?"

"Don't play, this is serious!"

She pouted.

"Oh, but you _liked_ playing last night."

"That was last night, this is this morning. Now give me them, or we're not 'playing' ever again."

She laughed.

"Ha. Like you could stay away from me."

"Shut up."

"Oh, you know it's true."

She stretched out on the bed, the sheets riding dangerously low. He stared, swallowed, shook his head and pulled himself together.

"Just give me my pants! I'm already late for Aizen's meeting!"

She grinned, and stretched a little further.

"Like you've ever cared before."


	5. Eyelashes

Yumichika and Byakuya

**Eyelashes**

"You have the most beautiful eyelashes."

If Byakuya had been anyone else, he would have looked surprised, and maybe a little wary. As it was, there was a flash of irritation, before his face settled back to its stoic norm.

"Excuse me?"

"They're so long and beautifully thick…"

"Get out of my way."

"… and have the most wonderful curl to them…"

"Stop talking."

"… and they're so amazingly dark."

Byakuya swept past and Yumichika nearly swooned.

"I've never seen someone make being aloof that beautiful!"


	6. Much

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Zaraki x Unohana

**Much**

"I'm afraid that I have had too much to drink, Captain."

"No such thing as too much, y'know."

He took the glass- which she had held in her hands ever since he had escorted her, with a degree of cordiality and chivalry that surprised everyone, from the Gotei seated officer Christmas party. He took her back to the Eleventh, only a five minute walk away (rather than the Fourth, which was closer to thirty), fully intending to lay her in the bed in the Lieutenant's quarters. Yachiru never used it- she had set up a fort several years ago in the walk-in-wardrobe, and slept in there on a nest of cushions and blankets.

However, as soon as they arrived, she had fallen in an elegant heap onto the floor, and had smiled up at him in a way that was different to her normal smile- still radiating, still beautiful, but missing the sharp edge that it normally did, that had terrified more than a few shinigami over the years.

He reached into a drawer- and she was sure that it should have held something official- and pulled out a near-black bottle.

"What's that?"

He glanced up, briefly, before reaching into the bookcase and pulling out a square cardboard file, the rectangular boxy kind that looked like a book when its spine was facing outwards. He opened it, and took out two tumblers.

"It's stronger than that eggnog shit you've been drinking."

He poured out two sizeable measures of the dark liquid, and took both glasses in one hand, the bottle in the other, and set them all on the table. She took one of the glasses and tilted her head back, but was stopped by a hand, and its hold, on her wrist.

"Don't slug it, woman. Taste it."

She paused, and did as he said. It was heavy and sweet, with a strangely bitter under-taste of-

"Coffee!"

She quietened herself, a little embarrassed by her outburst, but he only nodded, face unmoving.

"Coffee."

He sipped his own, with quick savour, before filling both of their glasses, this time to the top. She mimicked how he drank, watching him out of the corner of her eyes.

"It's nice."

He grunted, and poured himself another, deliberately ignoring her own glass. After a moment, he finished his third, and got to his feet.

"Sleep in the second left down the corridor. If Yachiru wakes up, tell her I said so."

She too stood, although a little more shakily, and took a step towards him, in order to take his hand and thank him. This proper and dignified gesture, however, backfired somewhat when she tripped on the corner of the rug and fell heavily against his chest. He steadied her with a hand holding each of her shoulders, but he seemed somewhat unnerved at the wide-eyed stare she directed at him.

"What?"

She smiled again, the strange, sudden bright smile that he did not know how to take.

He was even more confused, however, when she pressed her hands to his cheeks, reaching high to feel the rough, scarred skin underneath her own cool fingers. He said nothing, and did not move. She inched slowly around, moving his bulk with her, until she was standing next to the table. Not taking her eyes or her hands off him, she stepped backwards onto the table with all the grace and smoothness of a entirely sober dancer, and when their heights were slightly more levelled, she stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips against his.

"Thank you for looking after me, Captain."

His hands held her waist, and lifted her bodily, like a limp rag doll, into a strangely warm embrace.


	7. SeeSaw

Ichigo x someone, Masaki and Isshin in the background

**See-Saw**

"_C'mon sweetheart, come here!"_

_She lifted him up, and sat him down on a seat. She sat down on the other side, and Ichigo rose into the air, laughing._

"_Mum! This is so fun!"_

_She smiled at him as he laughed, waving his arms in the air._

He stood in the empty playground as dusk fell on the park that had once been his favourite place in the whole world, although the world had been a much smaller place to him, then. She had been a wonderful mother, he knew, the best he could have had, even if it were only for a short time.

He wondered if he would take his baby here, when it was old enough.

He did not know if he would make a good father, but he hoped he would be half the parent he remembered his mother being. And too, his father, because even though he was an idiot, he had been a rock in those terrible months after Masaki had died.

The thought of the tiny thing growing inside of her terrified him to his core, but he had been scared before.

He turned his back on the fading voices of his childhood and walked towards the entrance, where he could make out, even from this distance, the shape of a woman, hand on the large bump at her front.

Now was time for the future.


	8. Responsible

Requested by Mungetsu- thank you

Ikkaku x Nemu

**Responsible**

He was not quite sure when it happened, but he suddenly found himself responsible. When he had been young, he had been too foolhardy to ever take anything serious, and then round about when he should have started he just relied on Yumichika to do it for the two of them. He had his duty, but he didn't consider that to be the same thing- even as a high ranking seat of the Gotei, he did not feel responsible- it was just doing what he wanted to do, following Zaraki.

But then, on one innocuous day, he came upon the Lieutenant of Kurotsuchi's weird-ass division, crumbled on the pavement.

He later learnt that she had stumbled out of the twelfth division when Captain Kurotsuchi's division had not been watching, although quite how she had gotten into that state he did not know, and he had never dared ask. He was pretty sure that the truth would make him want to go and punch the freak's lights out, and he was also pretty sure that he would end up autopsied alive on an examination table as punishment.

But on that day, she had just been a girl crumbled on the pavement, and he knelt beside her.

It was only when she looked up that he even realised who she was, for her hair had come loose and was obscuring her face. But her eyes were distinctive, as was her face, which he and his drinking buddies had dismissed a long time ago as 'pretty, but needs to smile more'.

So he'd patched her up the best he could, before picking her up as she slipped into unconsciousness and carrying her to the fourth division, where he stayed by her side out of some strangely placed sense of duty. She sat up quickly a few hours later, as if waking from a nightmare, and stared at him, fingers fisted into the sheets of the hospital bed.

"You're-"

"Don't try and move too much, idiot. You'll only make yourself worse."

And all of a sudden there was a flicker of emotion on her face, the likes of which he had never seen before.

"Did you bring me here?"

"Well, you weren't exactly able to bring yourself, were you?"

She blinked at that, and there was a momentary silence.

"Why are you being kind to me?"

He felt his stomach do a back-flip as she touched his cheek, his eyes as wide as her own.

And just like that, he had a responsibility, because he was pretty sure that he could not forget that sudden warmth of his cheek. Jut like that he knew that the strange, silent Nemu Kurotsuchi was his to look after, because he realised that no one else would do it. Just like that, she was his, and like hell he knew where to start.

But then she lowered her hand to the bed again, and the look of acceptance and the lack of surprise that no response was elicited made his chest ache, just a little bit, in a way that he did not understand. He figured that today was one of those days for not-understanding where things were going- just for following where it would take him.

He took her hand back, and pressed a brief kiss to her knuckles.

"Get some sleep, okay?"

And then the dumbstruck smile that lit up her face, for just the briefest of moments, made all thoughts of responsibility suddenly not that terrifying.

In fact, if she were to smile like that more often, he realised that he would probably start to welcome it.


	9. Stay

Requested by ravens rising- who else? Thank you, as ever

Shunsui x Jyuushiro

**Stay**

"Ukitake, are you alright?"

He sat bolt upright in bed, sweat chilling against his skin. There was another knock on the door, and the same voice- Shunsui's voice- called out again, the same words and the same worried tone. He scrambled to his feet and darted across his room at the Academy to let his friend in.

"You were screaming, what happened?"

Ukitake felt suddenly mortified.

"Oh, god. Did I wake the whole corridor?"

Shunsui smiled, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I was up anyway. Are you okay? Was it a nightmare?"

Ukitake nodded, and shivered.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Shunsui. And you yourself should be sleeping, you know. We have early lectures tomorrow."

Shunsui raised his eyebrows and ruffled his friend's hair absentmindedly as he nodded, and bade his friend goodnight. Just as he reached the doorway, still wreathed in the shadows of a dark night, he was stopped, by a hand fisting in the back of his clothes, stopping him from leaving.

He half-turned, to see Jyuushiro's exhausted, irrational eyes staring back at him.

"Please, Shunsui… wont you stay tonight?"

He could not help but smile at that, as he pulled them both down onto the small bed. He pushed their bodies close together to fit under the covers, and pressed a light kiss to the corner of Jyuushiro's mouth, a place he knew and loved well.

"Sleep, huh?"

He did not get an answer- in the warmth of Shunsui's arms, on the comfort of his pillow, Ukitake had fallen immediately back to sleep. Shunsui felt no inclination to slip off- he stayed the rest of the night, Jyuushiro's body just as much as a comfort to him in the early hours of a winter month.


	10. Night

Kira x Hisagi

**Night**

Kira, Hisagi knew, came into his own at night, as if the responsibilities and worries that set his forehead into frown lines sank away under the horizon of his subconscious with the sun. He laughed loudly, he spoke brightly, his eyes never strayed into shadowy reflection and the only lines on his face were the small creases in the corners of his mouth as he smiled.

Shuuhei had fallen for him in the night time.

It was the way Izuru had turned to him, his face barely lit by the dim light, and had kissed _him_, rather than the other way around, fiercely and passionately and expressing a thousand thoughts of relief and gratitude and love and dependence all at once, and the way he had smiled afterwards, at the dazed look of happiness in Shuuhei's eyes, and taken him by his hand, and asked him, sweetly, innocently, if Shuuhei would make him scream now, please.

To which, needless to say, Shuuehi had needed no second invitation.


	11. Worry

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Hitsugaya and Yamamoto

**Worry **

"Captain Hitsugaya. We have summoned you here to discuss a catastrophic problem that our researchers have recently discovered in the Living World. We need to intervene, and we need _your_ help in particular."

Toushiro stood to attention, waiting for his orders.

"It concerns the phenomena that the Twelfth division are calling Global Warming. The humans have not discovered it yet, but by the time they do, it might be too late. The atmosphere of the planet is heating up, causing melting in both the Northern and Southern Poles."

"But, Captain-Commander, I-"

"So we need you to lead a team of shinigami with ice and snow related zanpakuto to the Arctic and Southern Oceans, where you will re-freeze areas of the ice caps and tundra to combat shelves which have already begun to melt. There will also be several on your team who have strong water zanpakutos, and they will work in conjuncture with you to create cold water currents, which you will direct into major seas to cool them down, and thus to cool the atmosphere."

Toushiro frowned.

"But Captain-Commander, with all due respect, Global Warming is only a theory. I'm not sure I can act on something that is only theoretical. It could have terrible ramifications if it turned out not to be true."

The end of Yamamoto's staff hit the ground, just once.

"The humans have not yet discovered this phenomena, and they are too concerned with their industries to notice yet. This might be the last chance we have to tackle this problem."

"Don't worry, sir. I'm sure that the rumour will die out, and that the humans will never even notice. It won't cause any problems."

Yamamoto sighed, and closed his eyes.

"I cannot force you, Captain, to do this, but I want you to know that you are responsible, if it appears that it is true."

Toushiro nodded, and bowed, and turned to leave. He paused in the doorway, one hand on the wood, and said one final thing.

"With respect, Captain… I cannot see it becoming of any importance."

* * *

_So, you can blame Toushiro..._


	12. Lift

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Shinji x Hiyori

**Lift**

When Shinji suggested that they go hiking, Hiyori had pulled a face and moaned about how the idiot always picked the worst things to do. High pressure and an unseasonable north-westerly front had blown a great amount of Russian snow onto Karakura that no one had been expecting, and Shinji had decided that it would be a great chance to get up onto the hills, where everything would be covered in thigh-deep snow and a thick layer of ice.

Secretly though, as much as she complained about the trip, she knew that it would be beautiful up there. They had rented crampons so they could get better purchase on the slopes, and she tried them on the day before, fastening them on over her boots and clunking awkwardly around her room in her pyjamas. She banged her calf against the side of the bed, and nearly tripped, turning her ankle as she went. She regretted that the next day, when they started walking, and it began to feel like her ankle was on fire. She could _feel_ the scrape of moving tendons in her heel, painfully sensitive, and soon she began to lag behind, even after they were only walking for only twenty minutes.

Shinji turned around when he realised, and sighed at her.

"What's wrong?"

She glared, offended.

"Nothing, idiot. Just got a stiff ankle."

He sighed again, and pushed her down onto the dividing wall between two fields. He pulled his gloves off with his teeth and undid her crampons and boots, ignoring the cold biting into his fingers. He eased it off her foot, not slowing despite her hiss of pain, and pulled down her thick socks, rolling his eyes at her red and swelling heel.

"Idiot. What made you think you could get up a mountain on that?"

"Shut up, bastard."

Her eyes flickered closed as he pushed the boot back on. He slipped the other crampon off and undid his rucksack to find the tough fabric bag to hold them. By this point Hiyori was attempting to do her boot up again in gloves, and his knuckles had turned sore and red in the cold.

"Give it here."

She scowled at him and lifted her foot up for him to loosely tie it, so it wasn't too tight against the swelling. She stared down at his bowed head, and at the flakes of snow that had settled on his hair, and resisted the urge to stroke it.

He rolled his eyes at her again- she hated that- and handed her the rucksack.

"Hold this."

"Why should I hold it?"

He hooked an arm under her knees, and another under her arms, and lifted her up. The rented car they had driven out here was almost a mile away, and he knew that she would not be able to get the rest of the way back. She hugged the bag to herself, a part that she was trying to ignore feeling very guilty, and let her head rest against his chest.

"Idiot. You'll break your back."

"Shut up, bitch."

He carried her all the way back to the car, not stopping despite the ache in his arms and the thickening snow that was blurring his vision. He dropped her in the passenger seat, taking off her boots again to throw in the back of the car. She was shivering as he slipped in next to her, and turned the engine on to get the heating working.

"I'm sorry."

He glanced at her, surprised by the rare apology. She was staring down at her knees, blushing.

"What?"

She worried her bottom lip, chapped and dry from the cold wind. The snow was piling up on the windows: soon it was like a small cave inside.

"I did want to go up with you. I thought it would be… I… I'm sorry I ruined your plan."

He reached out, and took her hand, and pressed his lips to her palm. She glared sulkily at him, the tinge of a blush showing her embarrassment and pleasure. She looked cute like that, he thought- wind blown, bundled up in jumpers, red-cheeked.

He reached over, and kissed her.

"We'll just do it next week, okay?"

She smiled at him then- a rare, genuine smile- and settled down in her seat, his hand still in hers.

"Deal."


	13. Integration

Requested by Nefarious Seraph 13- thank you

Byakuya, Karin and Ichigo x Rukia

Errr… assume that Ichigo has told everything about the Soul Society to Karin. Or that she has forced it out of him. I guess either is plausible…

**Integration**

The act of integration is the act of incorporating separate groups of society into each other. However, in the case of poor Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki, integrating their families was proving to be a monstrously difficult task.

Ichigo slammed the living room door shut behind him, throwing his body weight against it in case the full force of Byakuya's irritation was able to push it open behind him.

And he thought family events were meant to be fun.

"You know, you're going to have to go back in there sometime, Ichigo."

He glared at Rukia, who was watching him, a tray of drinks in her hands, with a raised eyebrow. He took his drink off her, swallowing it quickly, cursing provenance that he had to get with a girl that had such uncompromising, terrifying family.

"It's a good job you're hot, that's all I'm saying. If you weren't, this totally wouldn't be worth it."

Inside the room, more glares were being shared. Karin was not best pleased to be left alone with the man who looked like he had a stick shoved up his ass.

"I'm only doing this because Ichigo asked me to. Don't expect me to exchange pleasantries."

Byakuya crossed one leg elegantly over the other as Karin folded her arms.

"That is good to know. It appears that all of the Kurosaki children are as ill-bred and foul-tempered at their incompetent older brother."

If he thought he could rile Karin that easily, he obviously knew nothing about the years she had put up with her father. Her father who, thanks to a well-timed birthday gift, was currently far, far away from ever meeting the stoic, disapproving shinigami who now sat, entirely out of place, in the Kurosaki front room.

"Heh. If he's so incompetent, what does that make you? He _beat_ you."

A muscle twitched in Byakuya's eyebrow.

"He had luck on his side."

"Luck ain't anything to do with it."

Byakuya wondered if Ichigo would kill him if he murdered the boy's sister. He supposed, judging from what his own reaction to the sight of Rukia's body would be, he would.

And it would probably be painful.

"Besides, at least Ichigo doesn't have a fruity, flowery zanpakuto. What the hell is that, anyway?"

From behind the door, Ichigo suppressed a laugh.

"That's my girl."


	14. Mess

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Kyouraku x Ukitake x Unohana

**Mess**

It took him by surprise, the mess he had made of their lives, of their worlds. The three of them had once been perfectly ordered, organised: their lives had been just as they should have been, just as they should always have been. They were three Captains, three pillars of strength in the community that should have stood alone, separate. Some of the Captains could do that just fine- stand distant from the rest of the world, keeping themselves at bay from emotion, constantly restrained.

He had not been able to do so.

God though, how he had tried.

A great many years, he had persevered, until one day he could take no more and he had reached out, and had taken her hand in one, and his in the other. He had brought them close to him, his two Captains who had spent so many years being unloved, and so many years loving others.

Two pillars would not have been enough- they would have strained to reach each other, and failed. With three of them, though, they could reach across the loneliness, and make miracles happen.

Retsu reached up, and touched his cheek, and Shunsui pressed his stubbled face against his neck, and Jyuushiro realised that although he had made this mess, they could ride it through together. As long as time ticked on, and Shunsui's skin stayed warm, and Retsu's touch stayed soft, then he could do _anything._

He could break down pillars.

He could change the world.

And regardless of any mess that they made along the way, he was sure that they could be happy.


	15. Fairy

Ichigo x Orihime and Tsubaki

Tsubaki's cool. Where has he gone?

**Fairy**

"Ichigo! You're offending them!"

"I'm just saying, I don't feel comfortable doing… that in front of the fairies!"

"They're not fairies!"

"Whatever!"

With a flurry and rush Tsubaki appeared, and cut a slice in Ichigo's cheek.

"We are not fairies."

Ichigo blinked, his hand moving to feel the dampness of blood.

"If you continue acting with such disrespect, then we will no longer allow you to date Orihime."

His look of bewilderment turned into disbelief.

"How the hell dare you!"

Tsubaki's voice was deadly.

"Play nice, little Shinigami, or I'll cut you a matching one."

Ichigo caught sight of Orhime out of the corner of his glaring eyes, and after a moment, raised his hands in defeat. With a nod of victory, Tsubaki disappeared.

"…fuckin' fairy."


	16. Thought

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Hisagi and Nemu

**Thought**

"Well, what are we going to do about it?"

The Lieutenants were flustered. The Winter War had increased the workload of every shinigami, and the first and second seats in particular. With three missing Captains, and the fact that the Lieutenant of the Eleventh Division never pulled her weight, the group now had more to do that ever before.

Hisagi slapped his head, and sighed.

"Here's food for thought, right-"

"Pardon me, Lieutenant Hisagi, but what does that phrase mean?"

Nemu Kurotsuchi rarely had anything to say in the weekly Lieutenant meetings, and this interruption was an infrequent and irregular question.

Hisagi was flustered.

"Well… it's just an expression. Like 'curiosity killed the cat'."

Nemu frowned slightly, and pulled a small notebook out of her sleeve.

"And what cat would that be, exactly?"

"I… umm…"

Hisagi looked hopelessly around the room.

"Little help?"


	17. Blue

Mayuri and Ishida

**Blue**

"Why do the Quincy's like the colour blue?"

"Why on earth do you want to know that?"

"Research."

"Oh."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So, why do Quincy's like the colour blue?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer!"

"Yes it is."

"No it's not!"

"It's an answer of my own kind. I thought you'd appreciate the unusual."

"An unusual answer, but that wasn't an answer at all."

"Okay. Why do _you_ wear a mask?"

"Ah… umm… that's for my own reasons."

"Thought so."


	18. Jaded

Requested by le car- thank you

Kensei x Mashiro

**Jaded**

When they arrived in Karakura, he spent a lot of time walking.

He would wander around the town, for whole days at a time, without stopping to eat or drink. He would walk meaninglessly, filled with pain, unable to look his comrades in the eye or stop to calm himself. He would walk until he was unable to go further, and then the next day, aching muscles aside, he would do the same.

He was exhausted with the way things were now. Like a weight on his shoulder, he could not escape the feeling that he failed them all, failed the Soul Society, failed himself. Every time he caught sight of his reflection, in a mirror or glass or the water of a puddle, he felt a deep sense of guilt, and shame, and entirely world-weary.

That was, until, she slapped him across the face.

With an unusual look of seriousness, one that, if he had been paying more attention, he would have realised had become more prominent in the recent weeks.

She stared at him.

"You bastard."

He felt rage swell up inside of him like a coil of heat. He had no idea how she had found him, out here in the streets, or whether she had been following him from the outset, but both thoughts angered him almost as much as the slap.

"What?"

"Stop moping around! We need you here, you know?"

"What good am I to them? I got them into this mess."

"And so did I. But you don't see me being all jaded about it."

He looked away then, anger seeping out of him, leaving him suddenly tired.

"I should have been stronger."

"There was no way for you to have been."

"Still… I should have been."

She pressed her lips to his collar bone, and pressed her body against his. For a moment, he simply stood there.

"Kensei, come home."

He felt his arms move of their own accord, wrapping around her.

"Please."

He sighed, deep and long.

"Fine."

Her eyes, when they looked up at him, were warm with hope, and as she pressed her lips once more to his skin, he wondered if he himself might find a little bit of that hope here, for them, and for the future.


	19. Loaded

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Shunsui x Nanao

**Loaded**

Her words were cold and loaded, her tone cutting and sharply direct. If he did not know any better, he would say that she hated him.

"Captain, you are an idiot."

He hooked his arm around her shoulders, and pointed his fingers, in the shape of a gun, against her forehead.

"Careful now, Nanao-chan."

"Stop being stupid, Captain."

He cocked his fingers, and his smile widened.

"I told you- be nice, or I'll shoot."

She reached up, and flicked his forehead. Hard.

"And I told you, stop being stupid."

He continued to smile down at her, the curl of laughter on the corners of his mouth. Her scowl was still sharp, but her mouth too was beginning to twitch.

Shunsui's voice was suddenly soft, quieter than before.

"Bam."

He leant down, and pressed a kiss to her nearly-smiling lips.

"Got you."


	20. Smug

Hallibel

**Smug**

People underestimated her. They did it all the time.

Idiots.

Because _obviously_ women were naturally weaker, easier to kill.

They patronised her, attempted to manipulate her, hurt her, touch her. They didn't realise she was above them, above their attempts at pain that almost made her laugh out loud with their arrogance. Their pride made them stare unbelievably into her eyes as she killed them, killed them because she_ could._ And yet new ones kept appearing, as if some giant machine somewhere was churning out creatures of stupidity and egotism.

The bone of her mask smiled at the writhing body under the tip of her blade.

Idiot.


	21. Down

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Matsumoto x Isane

**Down**

"Isane, I'm feeling blue."

There was a sigh from the other side of the room.

"Why are you feeling blue, Rangiku?"

"You know why."

Isane sighed again, deeper and longer, and neatened the pile of paperwork that she had just finished writing.

"You know that I am busy, Rangiku."

"Busy doing what?"

Isane rolled her eyes, not for the first time that night.

"The normal stuff. Signing for new shipments of drugs, authorising operations and reading through profiles for shinigami applying for the empty fourth seat position."

"That doesn't sound like fun."

"It isn't, but it has to be done."

There was a long pause, and Isane signed another load of forms.

"Isane, I'm still feeling down."

She turned on her chair, and raised an eyebrow at the other woman.

"Rangiku, put your clothes back on."

"Not until you come over here and brighten up my day."

Isane sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Fine."


	22. Scandal

Requested by Nadie- thank you!

Hachigen and Yachiru, Kenpachi and Yumichika

**Scandal**

"Hey, guess what? Did you ever notice… there are only two people in the Soul Society with pink hair."

"So?"

"And we don't know anything about the family of one of them…"

"What are you getting at?"

"Well, have you ever stopped to think that-"

"Ushoda and Kusajishi? Related?"

"Why not? It could happen…"

"But, they're so different! He is so mild mannered, and she-"

"That is all about who has raised them. And think about who has brought Kusajishi up."

"But of course, you're right. What a scandal!"

Yachiru, who had been listening from outside of the door as soon as she had heard her name, had her ears pricked and a look of confusion on her face. She darted off quickly, before the two gossiping women could emerge, forehead creased in confusion. It did not take her long to find Kenpachi, who was sat scowling behind his desk, scrawling signatures on forms under the glaring supervision of the irate fifth seated officer of the Eleventh.

"Hey, Ken-chan!"

He glanced up, his scowl not abating.

"What?"

"Could I have a family that I don't know about?"

His forehead creased a little more, and he looked back down at his work.

"I guess."

"Oh."

She stood still and silent for a moment, thinking. Yumichika looked between the two with a worried eye, conscious of the Captain's sudden dip in mood in a way that only adults can be, and children overlook. But then, as if coming to a sudden decision, Yachiru jumped forward and planted herself on Kenpachi's lap, looking down onto the paperwork on the desk with interest that they all knew would quickly wane.

He blinked, surprised.

"What're you doing, kid?"

She tilted her head back so she was looking up at him, her perpetual grin back in place.

"Don't need 'em."

He frowned again, confused.

"What?"

"Don't need any other family, just 'cause they got pink hair. I've got you, Ken-chan!"

His expression softened, just a little bit, and he placed a warm hand on her head, ruffling her hair a little.

"Damn right, kid. Damn right."


	23. Vanity

For Ashfial.5Bleach, since this is her favourite

Hisagi x Matsumoto

**Vanity**

Vanity was a big problem in their relationship. Well, there were many problems in their relationship, from working too late and getting drunk with his friends when he was supposed to be meeting her to some of the more questionable pieces in her wardrobe and the more questionable of her former lovers. Vanity, however, still came up the most, even after so long together.

It caused annoyance in the morning, when tempers were frayed anyway, and frustration in the evening, when both were tired and not in the mood for bickering, which was the inevitable outcome.

Matsumoto rubbed her face with her hands.

"Shuuhei, will you move?"

It is a strange thought, that someone can spend that much time looking in the mirror.

"Just a minute!"

"Get out of the way! I need to put on my make-up before I go to work!"

"Ah, stop moaning. I need to finish my hair."


	24. Meditation

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Rose x Lisa

Does Rose remind anyone else of Jean-Claude from the Anita Black, Vampire Hunter books? I have to stop myself from writing 'ma petite'

**Meditation**

"Stop being so highly strung. Try fucking meditating, bitch."

"Go to hell, you arrogant asshole."

She stormed away from Kensei, blood pulsing and frown so deep she was sure it would cleft her face in two. She huffed over to a nearby rock, where Rose was lying on his back, playing his guitar with his eyes closed. She sat down on top of the rock, arms folded, looking down at him. Without opening his eyes, or even addressing her, he smiled.

"You know, there is nothing wrong with meditation."

Her glare continued to grow.

"If you think I'm going to sit cross-legged and go 'om', you've got another thing coming."

He put his guitar to one side and sat up, smiling.

"You can do it from there. Just close your eyes and relax."

"Yeah, like that's going to help. Kensei's an _ass_."

Rose nodded, his face almost annoyingly calm.

"Yes, sometimes. But try it. Go on."

He picked up his guitar again and began to play something she didn't know. It was simple and quiet, with a unruffled repetition of chords that made her actually want to listen to his advice and try this meditation shit he was going on about. She closed her eyes and after a few minutes succeeded in stopping thinking, about that ass and about everything. It was brilliant- she felt her shoulders slump, and her muscles un-tense, and felt calmer.

She didn't register the music getting quieter, or when it stopped entirely, but she did notice when Rose kissed her, breaking her out of her stupor. She kissed him back, eyes open again and mind racing- but racing for entirely different reasons this time.

"Are you calm now?"

She bit his lip.

"Shut up."


	25. Strangle

Grimmjow x Luppi

I've always spelt Grimmjow's name with an a, but all of a sudden, I've noticed that I've started doing it the correct way. When did that happen?

**Strangle**

Grimmjow felt like he was being strangled, sometimes, by that strange, indecent smile. Luppi was a coil of tightly wound energy and retribution for mistakes, and sometimes Grimmjow felt that all the oxygen was being cut off from his brain- maybe that was what was making him act so strangely.

When Luppi wound his arms around him, Grimmjow simply rolled his eyes, and did not push him away. When Luppi stared intensely at him, Grimmjow could not help but stare back, and when Luppi's hands danced up his sides, he could do nothing except roll them both onto the bed, to pull off those long layers of fabric to show the fragile, writhing body beneath.

Grimmjow was sure that Luppi was strangling him, but he kept on going back for more.

Luppi just knew that one day, Grimmjow would be the death of him.


	26. Promise

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Matsumoto x Unohana

**Promise**

The large hollow, which had taken the group of recent graduates by surprise on a recon mission, had been swiftly taken care off, but not before it had managed to gore one young shinigami, ripping out a large hole in her side. She would recover well enough, though, with Fourth division skill. She had been carried unconscious, in the quickly summoned Minazuki, back into the heart of the healing division.

She woke with a start of pain, nearly twelve hours later, and a warm voice eased her hurt like a soothing rain.

"Relax, my dear. I promise you, you'll feel better soon."

As she turned to leave, Unohana felt a hand grasp her own by the wrist. She turned, and Matsumoto's eyes were wide, nervously so.

"Do you promise?"

Unohana's hand was cool against her flushed cheek, but she was silent.

"Retsu…"

Unohana pressed her lips to the curve of her lover's cheek.

"I have not broken a promise yet, Rangiku, and I do not intend to do so now."

"Okay…"

Her voice tailed off, never properly awake to begin with, and slipping once more into painless unconsciousness. Unohana let her hand linger there for a moment longer, before kissing the girl's cheek once more, and letting herself out, into the hallway, where her Lieutenant stood waiting.

"Orders, Captain?"

Unohana's face did not flicker from her normal expression of serene dignity, but there was the slightest of tremors in her voice.

"Keep a close watch on her, and the utmost care on her treatment. The second there are any changes, I want to be the first to know."

The Lieutenant nodded, and bowed, but the Captain had already swept away.

As soon as no one could see her, her face crumbled.


	27. Smile

Ikkaku x Kira

**Smile**

"Smile for me?"

"I am smiling."

"No, smile properly."

"I am!"

Kira shook his head. He wanted that other smile- of raw passion and love and lust all mixed into one. Ikkaku's normal smile was lukewarm. He'd seen that smile before, focused on him, and it made him feel amazing inside.

He grabbed Ikkaku by the front of his clothes and kissed him, pushing him back against the floor and pressing his body down on top of him.

Ikkaku grinned. A real grin, breaking up his face and conveying emotions he could never say.

"Izuru, you're perfect, ya know that?"

Izuru nuzzled his nose into Ikkaku's neck, pressing light kisses there as warm, rough hands moved across his skin.

"_That_ kind of smile."

"Kiss me like that again, and I'll smile all you want me to."


	28. Lick

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Lilynette x Nanao, Shunsui and Starrk

**Lick**

"Shhhh, they'll hear us!"

The two, infinitely curious about the clandestine friendship that their subordinates had forged, had decided to take matters into their own hands. Seeing as how every time either of them broached the subject, the two told them to mind their own business, they were becoming somewhat frustrated- Starrk, because he was unused to not knowing the ins-and-outs of Lilynette's life, and Shunsui simply because he was insufferably curious.

And that was why the two of them stood hidden behind the door, Captain and Espada united in common goal, peering through the gap between the wood and the frame. Lilynette was standing on her tiptoes, hands resting on Nanao's shoulders. Eyes wide, the two watched the fraccion reach upwards, and lick a long line across Nanao's throat. Her eyes fluttered shut, and from behind the door, Shunsui and Starrk swallowed in unison.

They fell backwards against the ground, and the two women in the room glanced up at the crash. The Captain and the Espada had vanished by the time Lilynette had got to the door, eyebrows raised without concern.

"Typical. They have fled. You won the bet- and there I was sure they would ask to join in, the perverts."

Nanao's arms wound around her waist, pulling her back against her own front. She buried her face in the white curve of the fraccion's shoulder, hiding her blush. She tolerated Lilynette's games, sometimes even enjoyed them, but was often left flustered when convinced into public displays.

"Do you think we gave them enough of a show?"

Lilynette turned in her arms, cupping the back of Nanao's head with her hands.

"Maybe. I think we'd do better in private, though."

Nanao's mouth was against her neck, a press of lips against her skin.

"I couldn't agree more."


	29. Without

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Uryuu x Orihime

**Without**

He walked in on her in tears, her eyes damp and her hands in fists against her cheeks, trying to rub the tracks away. There was something terrifyingly calm about her face, as if she had come to accept some great tragedy. He dropped his bags on the floor and fell on his knees, in front of her, taking her hands away and replacing them with his own, stroking the underside of her eyes with the tips of his fingers.

"Orihime, what's wrong?"

"I… it's stupid."

He stared at her levelly, until she blushed underneath his scrutiny.

"Really, it is nothing."

She had stared at him with that strange calm behind her eyes, and had nodded, and left it like that.

He knew he could not force it out of her, because she had a great strength of will like that. He did not ask when he saw her in that state a few days later, either, just opened his arms to her, although he watched her step with just a touch more hesitance than she normally would do. She wept several more times before she spoke of what troubled her, when they lay in the still dark of night. She had her face pressed to the naked skin of his chest, and began to speak, voice level.

"Sometimes, Uryuu, I feel like you're leaving me behind."

She spoke his name with deliberate emphasis, as if trying to anchor herself with it.

"What?"

"Every day, you're getting stronger, Uryuu… I wonder, sometimes, that one day you'll be too far for me to reach."

He laughed, softly, at her, and she looked up at him, smiling weakly.

"I'm sorry. I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

He shook his head, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Do you not understand, Orihime?"

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, a little damp from tears that he had not realised were falling. There was emotion in her eyes, painful and unreadable; it was almost as hard to look at as the calm of acceptance.

"I am going nowhere without you."

She smiled; bright, brilliant.

He hoped that his word would be enough to give her peace.


	30. Eyes

Ganju x Hanatarou

**Eyes**

Ganju stared down at the large, vapid eyes looking up at him, brimming with tears. There were shadows under his eyes and they looked tired, and a little red too. Their colour was washed out and they were set slightly apart, and the overriding emotion in them was sadness.

Ganju rolled his own eyes.

"Fine. You win. We'll do what you want."

His eyes creased as Hanatarou frowed. Ganji sighed. He still hadn't said the right thing, and he wasn't quite sure what it was he was supposed to be saying. He was crap at all this romantic shit.

"Okay. And you're not pathetic or worthless."

The tears vanished, the frown disappeared, and Hanatarou threw his arms around him in a hug. At the sight of his quickly brightened eyes, shining with undisguised joy, Ganju couldn't help but think that all off this nice-guy crap- crap though it was- could have its benefits, in the end.


	31. Champagne

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Shunsui x Jyuushiro

The prompt was for 'reunion'… umm…

**Champagne**

There was champagne at the graduation ceremony, and Ukitake feared that he had already had one too many. He had spent some of the best years of his life with these people, and the thought of leaving them was suddenly strangely upsetting.

"Hey, Jyuushiro. Why are you looking so glum, huh?"

He turned to greet the new arrival, his dearest friend. He held two flutes of champagne, one in each hand, and a wide grin on his face.

"Is it not a bit sad, Shunsui? We're leaving all of this behind us."

Shunsui handed him the two glasses with a purposeful air, and then used his free hand to ruffle his short white hair affectionately. Jyuushiro felt a bolt of warmth through his abdomen.

"They'll be reunions, you know."

Jyuushiro glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and his voice was sceptical.

"Very reassuring, I'm sure. Once every hundred years, when half of us have been killed in the line of duty?"

Shunsui nudged him gently, with affection and only the slightest hint of mockery.

"I told you that you couldn't be morbid tonight, didn't I? And anyway, we'll have weekly reunions, you and I. At those meetings…"

He tailed off as he caught sight of Jyuushiro's face, radiating confusion.

"Haven't you read the board? They've put up the listings for postings."

Jyuushiro's eyes widened, understanding the significance.

"And?"

"You're talking to the newly assigned Captain of the Eighth division."

"Oh, Shunsui! I'm so proud of you!"

"Be proud of yourself, Captain of the Thirteenth division. Those Captain meetings won't be quite so bad if I get to see you there."

Jyuushiro bit his lip as he smiled, passing a flute back to his friend, who clinked them together gently.

"Congratulations, Jyuushiro."

They downed their drinks, but as they had finished Ukitake stumbled a little, reaching to place his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. He felt a flush across his cheeks, and refused to meet Shunsui's eyes.

"Sorry. I think the champagne has gone to my head."

Shunsui took a hold of his arm, at first to steady him, and then to lead him out of the crowded room. They slipped away, no one catching sight of them, out into the chill darkness. The sky was clear, and air crisp, and as Jyuushiro felt it tear into his lungs he realised just _how_ the alcohol had gotten to him. The lines of reality felt blurred somehow, around the edges.

And then…

He heard Shunsui's voice from somewhere close but distant, like the remnants from a dream.

He woke up, although he did not realise that he had fallen asleep.

"Are you alright?"

"Shunsui?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"You passed out, outside."

He forced his eyes open, and sat up, despite the aching in his head and the pain behind his eyes. He recognised immediately the room that Shunsui had occupied during their time at the Academy, although now it was stacked with boxes- because they were moving on, out of the Academy and into the Gotei.

"Sorry."

He blinked as a hand rested against his forehead. Shunsui's voice was soft, and gently chiding.

"You have a fever, idiot. It wasn't so much the alcohol, was it? You should have rested, not come to the ceremony."

"Am I to spend the rest of my life resting, Shunsui? I have to work, sometimes. Especially now, you know."

The other had no words to contradict that sentiment, and when Jyuushiro touched the bed next to him with the palm of his hand he sat there, opening his arms so that his friend could rest his head against the broad plane of his chest.

"I know… but I can still worry, can't I?"

"I don't think there is any way for me to stop you."

Shunsui wrapped his arms around his friend, and buried his face, from behind, into the cool line of his neck.

"Damn right."

The room was dark, lit only by the dark blue light that filtered through the regulation curtains. Jyuushiro let his eyes fall shut, ignoring the questions that had been worrying him for a while- was this the normal way to be with your friends? He did not like to think of the answer, in case it made the warm feeling in his chest go away.

"Jyuushiro?"

"Hmmm?"

"What would you do if I kissed you?"

He felt the warmth spread down his body, all the way through him.

"Well… I'd probably kiss you back. Even though I'm feverous."

Jyuushiro could not see the smile that forced its way out of Shunsui like trapped sunlight, but he did feel Shunsui shift slightly as he went to lean Jyuushiro backwards, so he could press their mouths together.


	32. Corridor

Requested by Nanz77- thank you

Hisagi x Tatsuki

**Corridor**

He saw many interesting things at Karakura High School, where he had been posted on the rota to keep an eye on the actions of one Ichigo Kurosaki. There was permanently a high-ranking shinigami watching the substitute, now that he had inadvertently become one of the strongest shinigami in all of history, as the 'authorities' in the Soul Society were worried that he would come to oppose them, just as Aizen had done in the Winter War.

Which, he had concluded on the second day of duty, was rubbish.

Ichigo Kurosaki was as loyal to the Soul Society as he himself was, and as for his character… he realised in seconds that although Ichigo was abrasive, indifferent and a little rude, there was no reason why he would turn tail and attack.

He was pretty sure, in light of this, that this posting was entirely pointless, not to mention painfully boring. Or would have been, at least, if it had not been for a certain girl.

He caught her eye in the corridor outside the science labs, where she was waiting for her friend. There was such a look of intense fierceness in her eyes, such a disinterested barrier, that he paused, for just a moment. She was strangely different to the other vapid girls here- she looked aware, and ready. It was refreshing.

He turned his head, slightly to one side, as he watched Ichigo come up behind her, and rub his knuckles into her hair. So, she was a friend of his… he supposed, then, that he would meet her soon enough.

This soon enough, it became apparent, meant the lunchtime the next day, when Ichigo dragged him over to be introduced to the normal half of Ichigo's group of friends (although calling Ishida a friend of Ichigo might be pushing it somewhat).

She stuck her hand out.

"Tatsuki."

He nodded.

"I saw you in the corridor the other day."

She raised her eyebrow, obviously unsure of what to say.

"Oh, I'm Shuuhei Hisagi, by the way."

She nodded, and smiled. He felt his stomach flip, when she turned those eyes on him. There was something wonderfully hard about them.

Their handshake lasted for just a little bit too long, and was starting to attract just a little too much attention from the rest of the group, who were staring at them both with the abject curiosity that only bored teenagers could have in other people's business.

As Hisagi sat down, he felt her foot press against his ankle lightly, and wondered if those stories of making-out behind the bike-sheds were as true as people claimed.

Going by the smile that she quickly flashed him, he reckoned he might have a chance to find out.


	33. Database

Mayuri and Kenpachi

**Database**

Mayuri tapped quickly into his personal database, and called up a personal profile of one of the members of the protection squads. He read the information quickly, and smirked to himself as he mentally analysed the mans potential weaknesses and strengths. He formulated a plan and worked out exactly what part of the body he would strike with a particularly selected poison.

His smirk widened to a smile of pure, insane glee.

He knew he'd made this for a reason.

He switched it off, and turned to his banks of labelled bottles.

Kenpachi was going to _pay_ for insulting his hat.


	34. Pysical

Requested by Sutala Stormweaver- thank you

Shuuhei x Renji

**Physical**

Training was hard work, but that was kind of the point. You were supposed to ache afterward, and if you were bleeding or beaten up, it was proof you just needed to train more. No gain without pain, no gain or pain without train. It was supposed to work your body out, and push it to its limits. You were _supposed_ to be out of breath and sweating.

However, Hisagi was damn sure that it wasn't supposed to make your chest gleam with sweat in a way that showed off every single finely sculpted detail.

He sighed.

He hated the fact that routine physical examinations were necessary to monitor the health of the developing Academy students, and he hated even more that, as one of the higher ranking honour students, he had to conduct the physical examinations on the rest.

Damn being good.

Damn it to hell.

They took place in some stupid Academy room, too, which was entirely unnecessary, with a hospital gurney bed and an empty chest of drawers. Fucking stupid, seeing as how anytime someone got injured they got carted off to the shinigami's over at the Fourth. The whole thing was a waste of time. He had to tick things off on a clipboard, and everything.

He watched Renji pull off the last of his coverings, and closed his eyes, for just a moment. This, he was sure, was some kind of cleverly conducted, deviously constructed torture.

Renji grinned at him.

"Like what you see, senpai?"

Hisagi blinked, and Renji took a step forward.

"You wanna do a different kind of workout?"

He felt that gleaming chest press against his just before his mind clouded over, and he lost all concept of rational sense.

He heard laughter, boisterous Rukongai laughter, and closed his eyes.

"God, you fall for it every time, senpai."

The clipboard was forgotten.

The bed was not.


	35. Rest

Kaien and Ukitake

**Rest**

Jyuushiro tried to pull himself to a sitting position but ended up coughing instead, a racking, harsh cough that came up through his whole body and made him tremble with a weakness he despised. He fell back against the bed and hated his body for how far it could deteriorate without killing him with dignity.

He glanced sideways at Kaien, a little embarrassed.

His young, strong lieutenant rested a hand on his captain's head and smiled.

"Rest, captain. You're allowed to. That's why I'm here, isn't it?"


	36. Someone

Requested by AnimeLuver4everandevr- thank you

Sojiro x Toushiro

(Sojiro Kusaka is from _Bleach: The DiamondDust Rebellion_)

_Because nobody wants to be the last one there  
Because everyone wants to feel like someone cares  
Someone to love with my life in their hands  
There's gotta be somebody for me like that  
_Nickelback

**Someone**

There were always parts of the Academy that people tried to forget.

That first feeling of blood on your hands, and the first bite of bone mask against your blade. The first time you dared to look deep into the eyes of a hollow as you killed it, and saw the lingering remains of something that was once, a long time back, a lot like you, looking right back at you. The first time you saw someone walking towards you, carrying the dead body of a shinigami that only minutes ago, you had called 'friend'.

The sight of that first battlefield the morning after, stretching out into the horizon, full of carnage. The Shinigami had had many enemies over the millennia, and although not every group of graduating Shinigami saw active battle before assignment, there were some that had.

Toushiro Hitsugaya had.

He remembered it, too, vividly.

It had been a nameless foe: some outcast former twelfth division shinigami had been trying to breed a superior race of hollow, mixing genetic strands of animals with claws and tusks and thick hide with the strange cells of hollows that pulsed under microscopes with something that was not life, or power, but something in between. The things she had created were monstrous- they had no conscious thought, simply the ravenous single-minded intent of massacre that they had not been anticipating.

He closed his eyes against the remnants, and he knew that this morning there would be more than one of the painfully young and inexperienced students that felt that last branch of innocence break away from them.

Many of them grew up that morning, and grew cold with it.

Toushiro, his eyelids shielding the sight, had felt a hand around his wrist, anchoring him tight to the world.

Someone warm, who said nothing, and simply breathed silent relief onto his skin as light kisses were dropped onto his exposed and wounded shoulder. That someone had not minded the taste of Toushiro's blood, but then the air was so thick with the smell of it that he himself could feel lingering copper and rust on his tongue.

And that someone had cradled him against his taller body, and Toushiro had felt a few silent tears drop onto his skin as his wound was kissed, and still he did not turn around, because he understood that in a life such as theirs, to rely too heavily on the other was to condemn yourself to death: to succeed, you needed single-minded strength. That was why, at that hardest point, they would not look at each other, nor speak.

So he breathed in and out until he could ignore the taste, and forced himself to open his young eyes again, and although the sight the second time was no better, with carrion birds feasting and pink and red tendrils of the rising sun on the horizon lacing through the darkness, it also shocked him less. It seemed to have already become part of the scenery, part of the background: he realised that he was already become immune to the sight of death.

It was then he turned around, and pressed his body against the warm one behind him. Sojiro's eyes were as tightly closed as his had been moments before.

He let his eyes shut again, too, no longer worried. He knew he could face it, now.

He only hoped that Sojiro, too, could weather the storm.


	37. Magnet

Rukia x Ichigo

**Magnet**

"You're like a fucking magnet."

"What?"

It was true though. She didn't care how strange or abstract she sounded, and she didn't care that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. That didn't really matter to her, none of it did. The fact that he never understood, the fact that he could be so arrogant at times, the way he distanced himself emotionally from all those around him without meaning to. That smug look he got on his face when he damn well knew he was right. How much of a bitch he could be, and how often they fought.

No, none of it mattered.

She just kept getting pulled right back.


	38. Fireworks

Requested by AnimeLuver4everandevr- thank you

Toushiro x Ichigo

**Fireworks**

"Hey, Toushiro! Get out here!"

There was a grumbling from inside, but Ichigo's rare smile did not fade. The night was unseasonably cold for the end of July, and he sat out with a blanket tucked around his legs, the other half of it loose and waiting for the smaller shinigami.

"Toushiro! You'll miss it!"

"Shut up! I'm coming!"

From the balcony of the hotel, Ichigo could see across Karakura, although most of the house tops were obscured, from where he sat on the floor, by the safety wall. The sky was visible, though, and that was enough. He was damn glad that when the Captain's did get time off, the Gotei forked out for a hotel. He just wished they would start doing it for missions, too. If one more Shinigami on a mission turned up at his window expecting unquestioning shelter, then they would have another thing coming.

"Toushiro!"

"What?"

Ichigo jumped, not expecting the voice to be right behind him. The Captain stood in the balcony doorway, glaring.

"I'm here, alright. Shut up."

Toushiro slumped onto the floor, leaning against the wall. He threw the blanket over himself, and sat cross-legged, entirely ungracious. Ichigo threw the smile in his direction, before staring back at the sky. Since he was young, he liked fireworks. There was something about them that excited him as a kid, and even now he looked forward to the summer months, when there were copious fireworks festivals.

The first shot into the sky, and in moments there were a hundred more, from across the line of houses, turning the darkening sky into a plethora of colours.

"It's cool, right?"

When it became clear that no answer was forthcoming, Ichigo tore his eyes away from the brightly coloured sky to glance at the shinigami next to him. Toushiro's eyes were wide, and staring.

Ichigo smiled, reached for his chin, and turned Toushiro's head to him with his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey."

"What?"

Ichigo pressed his mouth to Toushiro's, and in all of a moment, the exploding sky was forgotten.


	39. Surrender

Requested by AnimeLuver4everandevr- thank you

Renji x Toushiro

**Surrender**

The thought of surrendering to a Captain of the Gotei 13 was not anything that many people would contest as a plan- however, there was a certain shame to it when the Captain was over twenty inches shorter than you and still looked pre-pubescent.

However, having spent most of his childhood being beaten left, right and centre by Rukia, he was used to that humiliation.

And in all fairness, the sight of the Captain glaring up at him shot nervous tendrils through his chest. It took him a good few months to catch onto the fact that those tendrils were not of fear, or respect, or annoyance at himself, but of something else.

It took just one kiss for Renji to realise what that feeling was.

And then, he put his hands in the air, and took one step closer.

"I surrender."

Toushiro looked at him, his expression unreadable.

"What are you talking about?"

Renji took the smaller shinigami's face in his hands, tilting it upwards, and pressed a second kiss to his mouth, hard and uncompromising. When he pulled away, Toushiro's eyes were half-closed, half-glazed.

"That."


	40. Punish

Shinji x Ichigo

**Punish**

Ichigo watched the lollipop staining the blonde's lips red with its sweet, sticky chemicals with a mixture of disgust and jealousy. The lollipop looked _disgusting_, but damn it all, Shinji's lips did not. The blond slowly, almost painfully, pulled it off his lips from where it was resting, regarded it for a moment, then put it into his mouth whole.

Ichigo could not help but think that this was some kind of divine punishment for something that he didn't understand.

Shinji noticed, and smiled to himself.

He turned to Ichigo, face deadpan.

"Want some?"

Ichigo stared at the proffered sweet with a perplexed look in his eyes, and Shinji took advantage of the situation and leaned in, pressing their lips together.


	41. Grapes

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Kira x Momo

**Grapes**

He sat next to her bed, waiting for her to wake up. There was peace in her sleeping face, and that had not been there for a long time- it had been replaced by worry, anxiety and sadness.

He had tried to visit her as often as he could, waiting for the day that she would look at him and look happy again.

She began to stir, her eyes fluttering. Soon enough she rolled over, opened her eyes fully, and smiled a small smile at him. It was not the bright smile of their youth, but he supposed that something was better than the void in her eyes that they had all tried to keep filled.

"Hey."

He rested his hand on her cheek, briefly.

"I brought grapes."

"I'm not sick."

"I know. I just thought you'd like them."

She wrinkled her nose, and he was forced to suppress a sudden memory as sharp and painful as the unexpected prick of a needle. She pulled that face when she was pleased with something- he remembered he doing it when she had first managed to wield shikai.

"Thank you."

She picked a grape from the proffered bunch, and popped it in her mouth.

"Mmm. They're nice."

He smiled.

"They are? I'm glad."

She leant over, and hugged him, her arms thin but _there_.

"Thank you."

He blinked, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"For what?"

She pulled back a little, and looked up at him. There was a look on her face- a look of surprise, as if she were seeing something that she had never seen before. With a painful hesitancy she hovered there, arms still around his neck, before placing a warm, brief kiss onto his nervously dry lips.

"For trying to make me smile."


	42. Bliss

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Renji x Izuru

**Bliss**

There was something about the gleam in his eyes and the power in his arms, about the strength in his mind and the laughter that echoed around him; something about his smile made Kira's stomach turn, and there was a fervour in his attitude that was addictive.

Something about his hair made the blonde want to tug it and pull his face closer, as close as he possibly could, and there was something about the passion in his voice when he whispered things into Kira's ear as his powerful hands pulled the blonde closer, and something about his kisses that made Kira feel like he was strong, too.

There was just something about the abrasive, wonderful man that made Izuru believe that he was allowed to have bliss too; that he was just as right.

Just as good.

Just as worthy to be alive.


	43. Ribbon

Ichigo x Uryuu

**Ribbon**

Uryuu tried very hard not to yell as he continued with his knitting. Ichigo was slowly pulling apart the delicate and organised contents of his sewing kit, unaware of the annoyance that it would cause the meticulous Quincy. He was not doing it out of spite, only curiosity and a little boredom, but now all of his needles were scattered across the table where they would no doubt get lost, his buttons had fallen out of their pockets and Ichigo had unravelled thread and re-knotted it into big mixed up clumps that he knew he would never be able to untangle. He had pulled pins out of their cushion and dulled their points by scratching the floor with them

Now he had a piece of ribbon in his hands, and was rubbing it forward and back across his lips, eyes half-closed at the softness.

Uryuu sighed.

The idiot shinigami was so easily bored.

He put down his needles and stared at the finished scarf, then threw it around Ichigo's neck, pulling him forward until their lips met through the silk of the ribbon.


	44. Dawn

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Ukitake x Shunsui

Yeah, the Lieutenant mentioned is the one _before _Kaien.

**Dawn**

The dawn came slowly, burning red and terrible on the horizon, like it had soaked up the blood on the battlefield. The fight was over, the enemy defeated, and Shunsui landed on the ground to find his friend. He had not reported in that morning, although the scanners could still pick up the lingering tendrils of his power.

Jyuushiro was sat in the dirt and dust, watching the sky. The battle had raged on through the night, and now Fourth Division shinigami were out searching for the wounded and for those unaccounted for. Shunsui was glad he had found his friend first.

He walked over to him, and smiled, a little sadly. Jyuushiro's chest was bare, the remnants of his uniform hanging from his shoulders, cut in two. There was a long, deep cut from the left to right of his chest, where he had just got out of the way of a goring from a hollow.

"It's a red dawn, Shunsui."

Kyouraku suddenly felt a terribly repressing burden rest on his shoulders, on his heart. He dropped to his knees in front of his friend, ignoring the pool of blood that seeped into the hem of his Captain's haori, the starch of its new whiteness now covered in the grime of war.

"You're injured, Jyuushiro. Come on, let's get you fixed up."

Jyuushiro turned to him, his eyes strangely empty. There had been many dead, last night.

"I'm not cut out for this, Shunsui."

The weight fell a little heavier on him, and Shunsui pressed a kiss to Jyuushiro's forehead.

"You have to do it, Jyuu. You _have_ to. You know that."

He wished he didn't have to say that; wished more than anything that he could send his friend away, to a place of quiet where he did not have to fight. But the Gotei could not spare him- the Gotei could never spare anyone of such talent and strength, and the Gotei was not a place to suffer regret and fools. There was no peace in the world that they lived in, but oh, how he wished he could free the man he loved.

"Come on."

He got to his feet, and held out his hand to pull Jyuushiro up from the dirt and the blood. It was splattered across his lover's face, dried to that brown that it distinct only to what has once been red; it had matted into his hair, but Shunsui was not worried, because knew that it was not Jyuushiro's. He could see the decapitated body of the Lieutenant of the Thirteenth division on the ground nearby. He knew why Jyuushiro's eyes were so blank.

His fellow Captain stumbled, and fell against Shunsui's chest. He rested there, hands coming up to fist in Shunsui's own intact haori.

His lover watched the sunrise, and Jyuushiro weeped for the dead.


	45. Bare

Gin x Aizen

**Bare**

Gin liked to make people reveal to him their hearts. He wanted people to rely on him, to show him their souls, just so he could leave them weak, like raw and open wounds. He made them love him, his pretty little things, until they could do nothing else but exactly what he wanted them to do.

Aizen liked to see people ripped open, leaving them vulnerable and broken in front of him, dependant on him not to pull them apart any more. He made them love him, his lovely innocent things, until they could see nothing else but exactly what he told them to see, could be only what he dictated.

Aizen took great enjoyment from taking them, and ripping them apart.

Gin liked to make them do it to themselves.

They supposed that there were some things wrong with them, in the privacy of their own heads, but these thoughts were never spoken out aloud. Gin knew he would never be able to break Aizen the way he had done so many, although he was not sure what Aizen had in mind for him. Nor did he particularly care- living was for the present, and concern for the future was Aizen's job. They were strange, secretive men, and they never opened up to anyone, never even opened up to each other. But as long as they lay naked together, skin on skin and heat on impossibly wonderful heat, they supposed that it didn't matter.


	46. Message

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Ukitake x Shunsui

**Message**

If you knew how to read it, if you studied long enough, you could see a message on Ukitake's body.

If you unfurled his tightly clenched fists, you would see crescent-shaped cuts on his palm, dark and freshly red. They had been there as long as he, or anyone who knew him well, could remember; never quite healing over as he dug his nails in once more, not noticing the thin line of blood that dripped to the floor. He simply got so filled with frustration, sometimes, that he thought he might burst.

You could trace the contours of his ribcage, which stuck out from his chest like a birdcage, what little weight that had ever been on him slowly wasted away until he looked brittle, ready to snap. He felt so fragile, sometimes, that he thought he might cry for his weakness, his delicacy.

There were shadows as dark as the sea underneath his eyes, caused by so many sleepless nights, which quickly gave way to the pale colour of his cheeks, the pale colour of illness. So many fears crept up on him in the darkness of night, surrounding him until he thought he might scream.

There were few new scars on his body, partly because he was too strong to be easily injured, and partly because he was too ill to be in too many fights these days: there were still plenty of old ones that laced his limbs and chest, slowly fading away to the delicacy of silver to match his hair. He hated that fact, that illness dictated his life. When he looked in the mirror now, he felt so frail he thought he might die from sorrow.

And if you were to look closely, you would find soft red marks on the inside of his thighs, some tender and new, and others waning away. Past the swing of his hair, there were slightly darker ones on the curve of his neck, underneath his ear and further around where no-one could see them; all the same shape, the shape of tender gravity.

They were placed there by a man who, despite the message that Jyuushiro's body was sending out to the world, knew that each disappointment could be dispelled with warm arms, all his delicateness ignored, any appearance of debility was false, and that each and every dread could be kissed away.

Luckily enough, Shunsui knew just how to read him, and just how to see past all of his weaknesses to the beauty and the strength of the thing that still was, and always would be, _his_ Jyuushiro.


	47. Challenge

Soi Fon and Byakuya

**Challenge**

They stared at each other from across the room, and Byakuya placed his pen down with a refined click that few had ever been able to perfect and which, in secret, Abarai had been practising.

"Is there any reason you are here, Captain?"

Soi Fon stared levelly at him along the line of her zanpakuto, which was pointed unwaveringly at his face, only inches from his skin.

Her voice was deliberate.

"I am here to issue a challenge."

Byakuya's eyebrow quirked. This was not what he had expected her to say, although he should not really have been all that surprised- the one who had taught her had always been able to surprise him, although that was a great many years ago now.

"Oh? Is there a particular reason?"

"Because my former captain saw a great deal of worth in you, and I want to find it too."

"Why?"

Soi Fon opened the door, and without quite realising that he was doing so, the other Captain stood to his feet.

"I do not need to respond to that."

Byakuya followed her outside, his voice little more than a whisper.

"So, I see you miss her, too."

If she heard, she made no comment.


	48. Knock

Requested by ChibiLarya- thank you

Aizen x Orihime

This was one of those superstitions I heard as a child that always stuck with me

**Knock**

She remembered someone telling her, when she was child, that when the devil comes to play, he knocks three times. She had had nightmares of the sound, and of hands curling around the wood of her door- sometimes black and burned, sometimes as white as death, but more often red, slick and dripping with blood. She wondered about that now, in this place of shadows and sins, because no-one ever knocked on a prison door.

Arrancar and defected Shinigami alike pushed the door open without warning or concern- they came as they pleased, and she supposed that whilst she was at their mercy, she could not afford to have any problems with that.

_He_, though, had knocked.

The first time, he did not wait for an answer, just swept inside. The cursory sound of cordiality had made her jump though, and hope, for just a moment- it reminded her so much of home, and the bitter-sweetness of reminders from home always made her forget herself.

He had stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at her with his dark, unfathomable eyes, and she had felt like her knees would give way, like she would fall to kneel before the man who had become her master.

But before she could, and before he said anything at all, he left.

Then she _had_ fallen, at the sound of her door once more shutting, and had sobbed until it felt like she was breaking. Not just because of her imprisonment, or her fear, but because of the unbounded confusion, the heat that spread through her when those eyes were fixed upon her.

The second time, louder than before, he had waited for her to call out a hesitant, shaking "come in". She was sat on the narrow bed provided for her, and could not bring herself to stand, simply stared wide-eyed as the door swung open, even though part of her knew who the only one who would afford her that courtesy was.

He looked at her for a long, lingering moment, and then took three steps into the room, swinging the door shut behind him with such a force that it should have banged- instead, it settled into place with a gentle click, as if not even noise would defy him his atmosphere.

He beckoned her to him, and she stood shakily, moving towards him and hoping that her fear was not as obvious as she knew that it was.

"Are you quite comfortable, here?"

She nodded dumbly, wondering if her heart was going to break her ribs and push free of her body, ruining the white of his clothes with the red of her blood. His eyes were dark, near-black in the shadowed room, but she could only look at them for a moment before she was forced to glance to the side.

His fingertips were on her chin, and he observed her the way a knowledgeable man would an animal he was considering buying.

Which, she supposed, she was not much more than.

"Good."

And then, with a final calculating smile, he left once more. That time, she made it to the bed before the tears came.

The third time, it was she who knocked on his door.

They had never locked her into her prison, supposing that she would be too scared to leave her room. Escape was impossible anyway, and they could trace her reiatsu, just as she now was following the coppery taste of his. The corridors in this part of the building were deserted and cool, the shadows broken at every window by the sharp beam of moonlight.

Her fist was gentle on the wood of his door, barely there, but he heard it.

Maybe he had been tasting the movement in her reiatsu just as she had his; maybe he had the corridors monitored, watching for movement; maybe he really was a God, who could see all. Perhaps he simply knew just when she would break.

She realised, as the heavy wood swung open and he smiled down at her, that none of that really was of any consequence. All that mattered was that she was there, and he was reaching for her, and that although his touch was ice, his lips were fire against her skin.

She had knocked; the third time.

That night, she let the devil in.


	49. Jazz

Requested by ChibiLarya- thank you

Shinji x Orihime

**Jazz**

She had been nonplussed when he had taken her to a jazz bar, but she supposed it made sense, just a little. There were people dancing, and drinking, and the atmosphere was light despite the smoky air and the warmth from the press of bodies. He had found them a table with an impressive speed, despite the crowd, and slipped away to buy them drinks.

She could feel the music making her itch to dance: it had a pulse and a rhythm quite unlike anything she had ever appreciated before.

"Do you like it?"

The voice was at her ear, over her shoulder, and she turned to smile at him only to find that he was already taking his seat across the small table. His smile was unwavering, his speed disconcerting and strangely attractive. She realised, with a sudden intensity, that she wanted him to ask her to dance.

He leant an elbow on the table, smiling still with a look of expectancy, and she remembered that she had not answered his question. She blushed, a little flustered at that. She had to lean over to be heard, strangely comfortable being that close to him.

"Yes, although it's not anything I've ever heard before."

He never did ask her to dance, not at the bar, anyway- instead he shifted his chair around so it was easier for them to talk. On the walk home, though- and he insisted on walking her to the door- he hummed big-band swing, and took her hand, spinning her around as they went, smiling all the while. She didn't think she had ever seen a person smile as much as he, but as he spun her against him she discovered that her own smile had not faltered for hours. She was sure the skin of her cheeks would split soon, ripping right open with joy.

They reached her apartment with a final move, as he leant her backwards, holding her with one arm, the way she had only seen done in films. He righted her, and touched her cheek briefly with the hand that did not still hold one of her own.

"Thank you, Orihime. I've had fun."

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, a kiss to her palm, and then, with that wonderful lightning speed, a third to her mouth.

He tipped his hat, and sauntered off.

She watched him until he disappeared, and touched her tips with her fingertips. A moment later, he appeared again, leaning around the corner of the street. He waved at her, his own beaming smile wider than ever before.

The next morning, she woke to find a carefully wrapped jazz vinyl posted through her front door, with a note attached to the front.

'_Apparently you don't have vinyl players anymore. If you want to listen, you can play it on mine'_

There was no name, just the insinuation.

It was him all over, really.


	50. Regret

Gin x Matsumoto

**Regret**

I wonder, on the rare occasions I let myself think about him, if he regrets leaving.

Does he look up sometimes and wish he was looking at me? Does he find it hard to sleep because my laugh echoes around his mind? Does he see me every time he closes his eyes? Does he remember that time we kissed for the first time when it rained, and does he think about the first time we slept together, and we knocked all of the papers off his desk? Does he wake up feeling lonely, when he feels that the bed next to him is empty and cold?

Does he even think about it at all?

Or is that just me?


	51. Balloon

Requested by ChibiLarya- thank you

Chizuru x Orihime

**Balloon**

She had just about given up on any chance of having Orihime as her own.

The beautiful girl, it had seemed, had finally given in to the grasping hands of those hideous men- that horrible Ichigo Kurosaki in particular. Whereas before, the girl had only stuttered and blushed in his presence, she was now much more at ease, able to laugh and converse with the group as any normal girl would. Chizuru could only think of one explanation- people only became that easy with each other when the awkwardness had gone, and they were _together_.

That meant that Kurosaki was the winner, and when Orihime turned to see her dismayed face and asked her what was wrong, she just smiled, and said she had a headache, before throwing her arms around her friend as she always did.

But that evening Orihime knocked on her door, and asked her to come out for a walk with her. It was summer, and warm, and was still light late into the night. They walked in the long golden twilight, until they came upon a man in the street selling balloons to children, hundreds of strings clutched in each of his fists. As they walked past the man handed a child a balloon, but then stumbled down the kerb, letting go of the balloons he had clutched in one hand.

"Wow, Chizuru, look!"

Orihime took hold of Chizuru's hand and pointed it upwards. A hundred balloons were rising into the pink sky- red and blue and green and yellow and orange and purple, in all shapes and sizes. They rose higher and higher until they were dots in distance, and when Orihime dropped their hands back down, she did not let go.

"Hey, Chizuru?"

She turned to look at Orihime, who was staring at the ground, a small blush on her face.

"Yeah?"

"You know a while ago, you told me that if I was ever feeling lonely, I just had to call, and you'd come and make me feel better?"

Chizuru nodded, holding her breath as Orihime squeezed her fingers.

"Well, this... this is my call."

She bit her lip, and Chizuru felt a warmth burn through her like fire. She pressed her lips to the orange-haired girl before nuzzling her neck, her smile unfading. She pulled away, glad to see that Orihime's smile was as wide as her own. She tipped the girl a wink, lacing their fingers together more comfortably.

"So, can I buy you a balloon?"


	52. Difference

Requested by Bowser Blanchette- thank you

Ichigo x Kiyone

**Difference**

It was obvious, at least to her, that Ichigo was different to Kaien. She knew that there was a physical similarity, that when you looked at him from a certain angle, and he was acting a certain way, then you could see echoes of Kaien there. She knew that there were times when Rukia could not look him in the eye; she also knew that he knew that too, and hated it.

But she could not see Kaien in Ichigo- she could not believe that he was really him re-born. Ichigo was too different, too much himself, to be anyone else.

When he pressed his forehead against Kiyone's, his eyes closed and tired, she could only see the weariness of Ichigo Kurosaki, and the life that he lived. When he took her hand and kissed her fingertips, it felt nothing like when Kaien had taken her hand to correct her hold on her zanpakuto, so many years ago when she was just a young, unseated officer.

When he called her name as he came, breathy and quiet, he only sounded like Ichigo Kurosaki.


	53. Card

Requested by AnimeLuver4everandevr- thank you

Toushiro x Momo

**Card**

She had been unconscious for days, and he had no idea what to say to her when she woke up. She was stirring- according to the Fourth Division shinigami she had even been conscious for a while, so he knew he was running out of time. There was no way that he could see to breach the rift that had grown between them, so he left a card by her bedside, for her to read when she woke, and hoped that that would be enough.

It took another two days for her to send word, through Matsumoto, that she wanted him to come and visit him.

He never worked up the courage to go.

A week later she was discharged, and the first place she went was the Captain's Office at the Tenth Division. It was late, and she nodded at the shinigami on duty, who let her past uneasily- it was still unclear to many what the Lieutenants of the Third, Fifth and Ninth had to do with the recent betrayal of their Captains.

There was never any question in her mind that he would be there. She knew- from Matsumoto- that he nearly always stayed well into the night at his desk, even when he had no work to do.

She did not knock, simply pushed the door open and stepped in, smiling at him as he stood abruptly to his feet, a look of surprise –and was that fear?- on his face.

"You never came to visit me."

"I did… whilst you were asleep."

"But not after I woke up."

He shook his head, slowly, and she reached a hand for him to hold, as they had done when they were young. An unbearable fear welled up inside of him, and he could not bring himself to take it. She let it fall back to her side before sitting, knees pressed tight together and fists clenched with the effort of emotion: she was tired and weak still. She started to cry- not for the last time, or for the first, and he moved towards her, kneeling, so that his face was level with her head as it was, resting on her knees. He took her head with his hands, cradling it awkwardly. She looked up, face damp with tears, and kissed his forehead, and then his cheek, and then after a pause finally his lips, for the slightest of moments.

He could feel the dampness of her tears against his skin, and swore he would never forget it.

She smiled at him, and for a moment looked just as she always had.

"The card was beautiful."

"I didn't know what else to say."

She pressed her lips to his once more, and the card fell from her hand to the floor, forgotten.

All that was written on it were three words.

'_think of me'_


	54. Poster

Don Kanonji, Jinta and Karin

**Poster**

"Haha! Look! This company wants to print posters of me!"

Jinta looked up, eyes wide.

"Are they going to make a Karakura Superheroes one too?"

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because I am Karakura Golden! The charismatic medium spirit for the new century!"

Karin raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

Don Kanonji faltered for a moment.

"Shut up!"

The two children exchanged a glance as the man crossed his arms across his chest.

"Bwahahahahahahahaha!"

One day, they were sure, this might make some sense.


	55. Desert

Requested by AnimeLuver4everandevr- thank you

Ukitake x Hitsugaya

**Desert**

Jyuushiro Ukitake was the most generous, good-hearted, selfless man that Toushiro Hitsugaya had ever met. He found that, as much as he tried not to do so, extremely annoying. He knew that if the two of them were stuck in the middle of a desert somewhere, Jyuushiro would wait until Toushiro was asleep, and pour water from his canteen into Toushiro's.

He knew that Ukitake would go without for him, and would not even want Toushiro to know about it- that was the extent of his selfless goodwill.

And the worst part of that was that Toushiro knew that if ever that ridiculous hypothetical situation were to occur, that situation that he often saw in dreams, he would know immediately what the other was doing, and would just drink the water, and not say a word.

Because Jyuushiro was always _giving_, and although he did not want to, Toushiro always found himself taking all that was offered: warmth, and compassion, and strength, and love. He knew he never gave enough back: that he probably never could.

In those dreams he watched them walking, and watched Jyuushiro grow slowly weaker and weaker until he lay in the sand and could not move anymore, his eyes always on Toushiro as he continued on walking, until the sand obscured his retreating back.

He woke angry at himself, with the morning light seeping through and near blinding him, and always pressed his body against Jyuushiro's warm one, burying his face in the sweet smell of sleeping flesh until he could no longer smell fictitious sand, knowing that soon he would wake but still a little anxious, illogically so, that he might not.

And so Toushiro cursed the feeling when he dreamt of sand underneath his toes, because he knew that the dream would be a bad one. And although he did not know it, his face creased up into a frown, and he tossed and turned, and even, sometimes whimpered a little. What he knew even less was that on those nights, despite the ache of tiredness in his body, Ukitake gathered him in his arms and pressed gentle kisses to his forehead until the dream passed, and the little, strong body next to him relaxed back into deep, restful, dreamless sleep.

That was just the kind of person that Jyuushiro Ukitake was.


	56. Static

Requested by AnimeLuver4everandevr- thank you

Toushiro x Gin

**Static**

Gin was good at reading people. In fact, he considered it to be a useful talent. He'd had a lot of practise at it, as well- everyone had traits that he could read; he could even tell things from what part of the room Unohana was serenely smiling at in the Captain's meetings.

Everyone was readable, that was his motto.

But to every rule there is an exception.

Understanding Toushiro Hitsugaya, Gin realised soon after he met him, was like trying to tune a faulty radio. It didn't matter how carefully you turned the dials, or how hard you hit it to try and make it work, all that came out of him was the echo of static. It didn't matter what he did or how he did it, the boy just stayed unreadable. There were no pattern to how he did things, or at least no pattern that Gin could read- he was just unsystematic, illogical noise.

Gin could not understand.

And Gin _hated_ that.

So every time he pressed the diminutive shinigami against a wall or a bed or to the floor, he listened and tasted and touched, and waited for a sign to show him just what the other was thinking. But still, time after time after time, nothing came. Their meetings became more frequent, their sessions prolonged, but with that came only more frustration, and more confusion.

The only way to silence the pain and nag in his mind was to lose himself so deeply in the feeling of the other that the question no longer mattered. When he was buried deep inside of him, with Toushiro's hands on his back and their teeth clashing in heated, awkward kisses, he felt like they were connected, that maybe, when they parted, he would be able to understand. But every time they did pull away from each other, Gin could see only pale skin and dark, mouth-shaped bruises- no meaning, nothing.

Each time he would pat Toushiro's head and smile in his own ambiguous way, hypocritically mysterious, and leave with that ache of ignorance in his head again.

What Gin had never considered doing- perhaps because he had never had to do it before, perhaps because it was simply not in his nature to do so- was just asking.

What he had never been able to guess, despite his lifetime practise of knowing and understanding and predicting every aspect of the people that he met, was that had he just asked what Toushiro was thinking, or feeling, the other would have told him.

Would have told him everything, without a moment of hesitation.

But Gin never said a word, never asked.

Then he was gone, and Toushiro remained uncomprehending and unreadable.

Just voiceless static.


	57. Finally

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Byakuya

**Finally**

When Byakuya Kuchiki realised his mistake, he was a little too late.

His life had been made up of them, he realised. From marrying a woman that could never give all of herself to him to not being able to mend her heartache in time to save her. From breaking his new sister's spirit to being unable to save her Lieutenant. Allowing her to be imprisoned.

Not being the one to save her.

That smile she gave him haunted his dreams: it had all the love and affection that a sister should direct at a brother, but he was very aware that he did not deserve it. Other people could see that too, he knew: his own Lieutenant, that wretched Kurosaki boy.

There was no way for him to backtrack; for him to fix the self-righteousness that had led him to this place. He had for too long been sententiously justifying actions that, he realised now, were wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong._

And so, with that in mind, Byakuya Kuchiki stood up from his desk, and made his way down the lonely and echoing corridors of a house that had gone too long without love, to knock on his little sister's door and begin to try and make things right.

He did so without a smile, but with a light in him that he had not felt since he was young, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could be the person that he had always tried to be.

Finally.


	58. Paint

Ikkaku and Yumichika

**Paint**

"No."

"What?"

"I don't like it."

"What?! You picked it out!"

"Yes, but it doesn't look as good now."

"You're kidding me?"

Yumichika shook his head.

"Nope."

Ikkaku's shoulders sagged. He was tired and frustrated and had spent his whole day doing this favour, and now all of a sudden Yumichika decided that he didn't like the colour of the walls, that he had changed his god damn mind?

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Yumichika smiled sweetly and wrapped his arms around the other man, who tried very hard not to push him off, as was his natural instinct, because Yumichika sulking was not the most pleasant thing to have around. He dropped his paintbrush with a groan and awkwardly returned the embrace.

"It's all right. We'll go buy more paint tomorrow, then you can finish the room tomorrow evening, okay?"

Ikkaku sighed.

He was a sucker, he really was.


	59. Caught

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Hanatarou

**Caught**

He had been caught, when Rukia was imprisoned in the Soul Society, in the middle of a lot of things that he had no control over and did not really understand. There was not a lot he could have done, in retrospect, but he wished that he had not been quite so passive, that he could have taken a little more control over the way that things had gone.

Now, it appeared he was stuck in Hueco Mundo, and yet again he could not feel more at a loss. He patched up where he could, but that wasn't enough- not when he could feel the spiritual pressure of fighting Captains wearing him down, not when Ichigo Kurosaki was about to save the world.

He was only here because he was a fourth division shinigami; any one of many could have taken his place.

No one could replace any of the others here.

Any of the ones about to make a difference.

His life was in their hands now, if it had ever even been in his.

Whatever control he had ever had over his own life drifted past him, like mist through his finger-tips.

He had come so far, and yet he _still_ could not catch it.


	60. Animation

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Yoruichi and Soi Fon

**Animation**

Every movement that Yoruichi Shihoin made was beautifully animated. There was a sleekness and grace to the way that her body worked that Soi Fon, as her little Lieutenant, was sure that she would never be able to replicate, no matter how hard she tried to do so. She could climb with a liquidity that made it look like she was flowing upwards, like water in reverse. It was almost, to the reverent eyes of her most loyal worshiper, as if she did not have to obey the rules and regulations of the human body- as if she simply dismissed them, with the ease and teasing that she dismissed everything of importance that she did not want to bother with.

It was her running, though, that really impressed her.

"Yoruichi-sama!"

She ran like there was nothing else in the world to do; until she was so far away that you would hardly have been able to see her if she did not run so fast that she was a blur anyway. She didn't laugh when she ran, she just kept on going, like she was trying to get to something far, far away that she just couldn't reach, not yet.

When Yoruichi had gone, Soi Fon began to run. She'd do it in the night when all her work and training was done, and the only people about were the night-guards, tense after the recent crisis.

They never said anything to her, and she didn't care.

She just wanted to run, to try and get faster and faster and faster, until one day, she could catch the woman whose name she never, ever said, anymore.


	61. Hour

Requested by raezura- thank you

Yoruichi x Soi Fon

**Hour**

Hour after hour the Lieutenant of the Second division waited, knowing that soon enough, soon enough, the world would be put to rights again; that the off-setting kilter that left everything skewed would be fixed.

It had been twenty-eight hours since both the Captain and Lieutenant had taken a team to follow up rumours of the whereabouts of a stray group of shinigami, who had deserted the Gotei 13 and needed to be reprimanded justly.

It had been fifteen hours since Soi Fon's own team had found that the rumours had been false, and having no other leads, had returned. She had submitted her report for the dead-ended mission, and retired to her office.

It had been nine hours since the tenth chair- who had been in Yoruichi's team- had stumbled back, bleeding and badly wounded, gasping broken words that left her blood cold.

"Ambush..."

"Too many…"

"No survivors."

And for those nine hours she had sat in her Captain's office, back against the desk that her idol rarely sat at, waiting, and not letting her hope die just yet.

And just as the tenth hour was about to begin the door slid open, and she saw her Captain, unwounded but filthy, and very much alive.

It took only a moment for Soi Fon to throw herself at Yoruichi, tumbling them both to the floor.

"Hey, you would have thought I'd have died. What's wrong?"

But all Soi Fon could do was press kisses to every part of her face, ignoring the fact that she was crying and the fact that she could taste the blood and dirt and sweat that laced Yoruichi's body; caring only that, once again, Yoruichi had defied expectations.

That, once again, Yoruichi had come back to her.


	62. Misery

Requested by KawaiiRiniBunny- thank you

Starrk x Harribel

**Misery**

She was misery, and he could feel it in every smooth line of her body, from the curves of her hips to the cold white of her jaw. She never smiled at him, even when they turned towards each other when he pulled out of her and rested beside her, the both of them stated and filled with a warmth that was out of place, here. There was a look in her eyes that made him feel as if he had not made anything better, only worse- a look that said that each time they were together would make it even harder for her to say goodbye to him.

Because she was certain that they would die- although which one of them went first she did not know. She supposed that she would, since he was the stronger, and she knew that the more he came to mean to her the harder it would be for her to shut her eyes, for the final time, with no regrets. And if he were to go first, as improbable as that seemed, since he fought so rarely… well, she had no knowledge of what it would be like, and dreaded the day she found out.

All she could hope for was that the two of them were killed in the same battle, so she did not have to find out either way.

A hope that was not hope in any uncorrupted sense of the word- a hope for the miserable, for those who had already felt the stark bitterness of reality.

It was that hope that he saw- the hope that they would die the way that they lay: together.


	63. Dry

Chad x Ichigo

**Dry**

Ichigo's lips were nothing like a girls', and his kiss was nothing like a girls' either. His lips were not supple and warm, soft and gently pressing, and his kiss was not hesitant or gentle.

Ichigo kissed like a boy.

Ichigo's mouth was rough and pressed hard against him, and was dry and a little chapped. He was a little awkward about it, but not at all coy: his kiss was harsh and full of emotion, not reserved or at all held back. His hands didn't move slowly, but quickly, pulling at Chad's clothes as if he wanted to strip his very skin away, to see what was underneath.

Chad watched Ichigo's mouth as he spoke to the group, and remembered that feeling of those lips on his.

He touched his own mouth with the tips of three fingers.

He didn't say that kissing like a boy was a _bad _thing.


	64. Now

Requested by Ashfia1.5Bleach- thank you. And you're right- they really are cute

Hisagi x Nemu

**Now**

You had to live in the here and now with Nemu Kurotsuchi. At any moment she could be called away by her eccentric and disturbing Captain, and then it could be days until he saw her again. Once, she disappeared for over three weeks, and she appeared again on his doorstep with, she informed him when pressed, entirely new muscles in her legs that had been treated so that it would take far longer for them to ache.

She told him all of this in her normal voice, toneless and somehow lovely even without inflection, and all he could do was nod and attempt to smile.

He'd tried, on occasions when she had gone for a while, to visit her in the Twelfth Division, but he was told at the door that Lieutenant Kurotsuchi was in the testing labs, and would be unable to attend to any other matters. They told him this with a kindly but firm manner, and he had never really dared protest. He supposed he did not want to think about what _manner_ she was in the testing labs.

The thought of walking in to see her being cut open, alive and blinking, was enough to make him wake up in a cold sweat.

So he learned not to make plans in advance, and to expect her to go at the beck and call of her father, and taught himself not to expect it to be any way otherwise.

It was better that way: no disappointment.

And on those mornings when he woke and she was still asleep beside him, he cast all thought of the paperwork still to be done out of his mind and stayed in bed, because those moments existed on precious, borrowed time. He would cradle her body in the curve of his, her back to his chest, and would drop a kiss on her naked shoulder, praying that, in the fullness of time, he would be given more mornings like this one than ones where he woke alone, Nemu gone to once more supplicate to the will of her Captain.


	65. Art

Requested by A . Lovely . Lie- thank you. Each time you request, your name gets chopped off when I upload. It is most inconveniant :)

Umm… this was not how I wanted it to be at all. Sigh. Oh well, I hope you like it anyway.

Aizen x Ulquiorra x Starrk

**Art**

Aizen like to make an art out of the way that they lay together, on nights when the need became too great and the Espada crawled to the domain of their King to offer themselves in his bed. He liked to lie them both down and attend to both of them with perfect symmetry, one hand for each of them, moving and teasing whist he sat regally between them, fully dressed, as they writhed and panted under his knowing touches and dragging nails.

He would draw away quickly just as they were both about to climax, and smile at them, knowing that they would understand what to do. He slid off the bed as he watched them kiss, side-by-side. Neither would move on top of the other, really move at all, and though Starrk entwined their fingers all three of them knew that they were waiting for their Lord to return to them.

Aizen stripped himself with an unromantic swiftness and formality as he watched pale limbs glow white and blemished in the moonlight. They both had matching marks; on inner thigh and jut of hip, on the underside of ribs and soft triangle between collar bone and neck. In a line down their body: Starrk's on his right side, Ulquiorra's on his left.

Aizen liked the fact that the two looked so different- that was, in fact, the reason he had chosen them for this honour. Ulquiorra was wiry, but had the slenderness of a child, and Starrk was broader, taller, and altogether thicker. They looked striking, kissing but not touching, except for their single hands- their other hand was occupied, preparing themselves for their Lord.

Both were ready, but tonight he chose Ulquiorra first, because the need was greater in Starrk's eyes, and he liked to be cruel to them, so they did not get ideas about where they stood.

He thrust inside of him with little concern for what pain it might bring, and was gratified to see that the Espada had bitten his lip to stop from calling out aloud. His head was rested on Starrk's knees, eyes staring upwards and glazed.

All words were forbidden here; all sound would break the spell, and was punishable.

Starrk stroked Ulquiorra into completion, knowing that Aizen would not do so. There was a strange loyalty that had sprung up between the two about this, but Aizen paid it little attention. Ulquiorra's eyes finally closed as he came, his breathing perhaps a little ragged, but no louder than normal.

Then- in the art of perfect repetition, Aizen finished himself buried deep inside Starrk, who came both to the feeling of their Lord and to the cool hand of his fellow Espada.

Aizen allowed them a moment to linger, on either side of him, as he thought that, had there been an artist in the true sense of the word near, they would have made a beautiful picture. A God and his worshippers; he lay on his back, each of the other two on their sides, curled and facing away from him, the marks of his ownership pointing upwards.

An absolute work of art.

A moment was all they had, and knew it. They stood and dressed again, before slipping quietly away with an expression on neither of their faces, nor even a backwards glance.

They went their different ways outside of the door, and spoke not a word.

It was as Lord Aizen commanded.


	66. Watch

Requested by A . Lovely . Lie- thank you

Gin x Kira

The request was for something graphic…

**Watch**

That night they slept together the way that they always did, stripping down to their naked, sweat-slicked skin, pale in whatever light came in through the window. Izuru was thrown down onto the bed, gasping and knowing that he would have red handprints on his side in the morning, but forgot to think about that when Gin tugged on his earlobe with his teeth.

Izuru gasped again as Gin slid inside of him with no preparation, the way he always did, but he did not let his eyes slip shut.

His nails dug into Gin's back, scratching deeper than he normally would, hoping he would draw blood and it would scar, so Gin would carry the reminder of Izuru around with him until he died; so he would not forget.

He did not let his eyes close, because he was sure that there was something different, and he was scared that it was the last time- more scared, because he was almost sure that he was right. He wanted to watch each and every expression on Gin's face, and carve the memory into his mind, so he could never forget Gin, either.

There was biting and pressing, and Izuru moaned loudly in the silent darkness. He was nearly painfully hard, burning inside and aching from the rough entrance, but there was a wonderful feeling building up inside of him too, the kind he knew and would never be repeated after this night. He felt fingertips on his lips, his neck, and then stroking him up and down to ease the tension. Gin was moving inside him, hot and fast, and his breath sped up as he arched his back, straining upwards.

They had been together too many times to count, and each time Gin said not a word, and rolled off him just as soon as he was done. Tonight was different- he knew that already- and Izuru saw a sadness in his eyes. As he came Gin buried his face in the warmth of his Lieutenant's neck, and whispered his name, breath hot against skin.

He felt tears well up as Gin lay there for a moment, trapping him against the bed.

He blinked them back as his Captain sat up, leaning over his lover, his eyes open and his lips slightly parted.

"Close your eyes, Izuru."

He did as he was told, and felt his Captain kiss both of his eyelids.

He felt the weight on him lift as Gin slid out of him, and when he dared to open his eyes, his Captain and his lover had gone.

The next day Gin betrayed the Soul Society, and Kira was not surprised.


	67. Tag

Requested by .Lie- thank you

Byakuya and Yachiru

**Tag**

"Tag!"

"No, Lieutenant."

"Tag!"

"No, Lieutenant."

"Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag! Tag!"

When even Byakuya's patience was being stretched to the limit with the incessant noise and the hearty slap that accompanied each word, he stood to his feet, and began to unsheath Senbonzakura.

"Yachiru, would you like to play tag with flower petals?"

Her eyes were eager and wide with anticipation, hands reaching up in the air ready to snatch, when he caught sight of the Captain of the Eleventh bearing down on them. With a slight sigh, he clicked his zanpakuto back in place, his face unchanging. No matter how riled he was, letting Yachiru play games with thousands of small blades may not be the most constructive way to getting silence to finish his paperwork.

"The trees in the courtyard are scattering their sakura flowers- why don't you go and play there?"

In fact, her screams would probably be just as annoying as the 'tag' mantra.

Not to mention Zaraki's anger.


	68. Crayons

Yachiru and Nel, Kenpachi and Ichigo

**Crayons**

"Pass the red please."

"Okay. Can I have the green?"

Kenpachi stared at the crayons that Yachiru had somehow acquired from somewhere in her clothing, and at the large rock that she and the little arrancar child were drawing on. They sat side by side, similar height, no inflections of the prejudice of their kinds visible as they passed the wax crayons between the two.

Such strange children.

"No, Ken-chan ripped his arm off here, not there!"

"Oh, you're right! But Ichigo stabbed him there, not on his shoulder."

"Oh, yeah! Pass the red again?"

Kenpachi shook his head at the scared looking Ichigo.

Such strange, strange children.


	69. Wash

Requested by Yamagi Kushida- thank you.

There seems to be a growing number of you requesting this pairing…

Ichigo x Kiyone

**Wash**

The steam wreathed up around his face, hot and damp, and if anyone were to ask, it would be that which he would blame his very red face on. Unfortunately, nobody asked him, because the only person in the baths with him was Kiyone, and she was just grinning knowingly at him, because she knew_ exactly_ where her leg was.

He shifted slightly, not quite sure whether to edge away or towards her. She slipped around the underwater seat towards him, trailing her fingertips in the steamy water as she went. He watched the ripples spread out from where they sat as she pressed her wet, naked body up against his, her hands slipped below the surface.

"Ichigo…"

Her voice was soft, almost whispered, and thick with emotion. He stammered in response, his blush spreading down his neck and flushing across his chest.

"Yes?"

He gulped at her hands slid down his side and his thigh, sliding to the inside and stroking him briefly before reaching over to the other side of him and pulling a sponge out from under the water.

"Can I wash you back?"


	70. Fuse

Requested by ravens rising- love it!

I am terrible at thinking up names.

Ukitake x Shunsui

**Fuse**

Shunsui had a very short fuse where Jyuushiro was concerned, and when his arrogantly handsome former lover came and sat down next to them at the bar without being invited, he felt his fuse burn a little shorter. The man ruffled Jyuushiro's hair in a decidedly territorial way and ordered himself a drink.

"How have you two been, hey? Living it up as Captains, whilst the rest of us slum it?"

He kept on talking, Jyuushiro answering politely and smiling with his normal warmth. Jyuushiro Ukitake was a popular man, and Shunsui long ago had to accept that sometimes he had to lose time to other people. Shunsui understood this. Shunsui even accepted this. Sometimes he wasn't entirely happy about it, but that was life.

However, there were two people that he could not _stand _doing it.

He hated it when he saw Ukitake's Lieutenant walk in, because he knew that he only interrupted if there was an emergency, and that meant that his Jyuushiro would be called away from him for tonight.

The other was the only one of Jyuushiro's former lovers that still dared to hang around them. He was leaning in too close, his arm just brushing his Jyuushiro's side, and Shunsui took a deep breath. He knew that if he were to ever act the jealous partner, Jyuushiro would probably only laugh at him for it.

So he took a deep drag of his drink, and prepared for his night to be high-jacked, and excused himself to the bathroom. The man was a creep, and had been trying to seduce Jyuushiro back into his bed for as long as he could remember. It was very irritating, particularly when he knew full well that Jyuushiro had been taken decades ago. But the man- and Shunsui had to admit, he had good taste- only had eyes for Jyuushiro, and apparently no-one else could do. Shunsui could sympathise, but that didn't mean he wasn't tempted to secretly have the man killed.

He was pretty sure he could convince Soi Fon to do it, too: those pictures of Yoruichi that he had filched from Urahara would be leverage enough.

He washed his hands and left the bathroom, to be greeted with the sight of, with a perfect calm and poise, still smiling, Jyuushiro pickingup his drink and throwing it neatly at the man's face. Shunsui blinked; the man spluttered; Jyuushiro placed the glass down with a quiet clink and caught his eye.

"Come, Shunsui. We have other places to be."

Offering a silent cheer and making sure to wink at the guy as they left, Shunsui felt elated, although he made sure only to appear mildly amused as Jyuushiro took his arm and lead him down the street. They soon reached the Eighth division (Ukitake's rooms were cleaner, but perforated with a smell of disinfectant that reminded them both of hospitals).

Jyuushiro pressed against him as soon as they got inside, eager fingers tugging at his clothes.

"I've never done that before," he panted, eyes wide and slightly exhilarated.

"Not that I minded," Shunsui replied as he helped Jyuushiro out of his own clothes, "but why did you?"

"He asked me if you were still with me."

"So?"

"So? So, no one can have you but me; you're _mine_."

Shunsui smoothed the hair away from Jyuushiro's face, smiling. Jyuushiro always sounded so strangely petulant when he had been drinking too much.

"I'm sure he was hitting on _you_, you know."

"Oh." Jyuushiro's hands stilled for a moment. "Well, that is still just as rude. I'm _yours_."

He blinked when Shunsui bear-hugged him tightly, but hugged back, not really understanding the sudden affection, but welcoming it anyway.

Shunsui was just happy; he hoped the man had finally got the message.


	71. Legs

Requested by ravens rising- thank you

Ukitake x Shunsui

Read the canon parallels, they're not very subtle

AU

**Legs**

Ten years ago, Detective Ukitake had walked into a bloodbath: several gang members slaughtered in an Underground station, their jugulars sliced twice, diagonally, from the left to the right, making an 'x' shape on their lifeless throats. The case had been textbook- two streets away they had found a group of unconscious fellow gang members, drugged up on something that they swore that they hadn't taken. They were all splattered in the blood of the victims, and incomprehensible. They were all cut up themselves, as if there had been some kind of fight- all of them had refused to testify, and the judge at their trial had sent them down.

They had spent these last ten years silent, and Ukitake had spent them occasionally remembering, with a strange feeling of discomfort. He had never had that feeling about any other case- it was if he had missed something, and now he was beginning to think that he maybe had done.

Another bloodbath, another scene to which he was summoned.

This one was something special, though. The entire of the city council, all butchered, with an 'x' to mark the spot on each of their necks.

Strangely similar, but those murderers were locked up, under surveillance. It made no sense, no sense at all. He supposed it could have been a copycat murder, but the first had never been widely publicised. But the image could not leave his mind, the thought just escaping the reach of his fingers.

It had been horrible; a horrible day altogether.

Ukitake hated the murder scenes with a lot of blood, and this one had been bad, even by his experienced standards. Two hundred dead, opened veins, cramped room. Literal pools of blood. What he hated more was clumsy and idiotic reporters trying to get past to get a story, slipping, and having to fall to his knees to catch the idiot before he fell face first into one of the bodies and contaminated the scene.

Blood stains were a bitch to get out of uniform.

It was even worse when they soaked through and left brown dried stains up and down his lower legs.

He sighed as he knelt in the Police Department shower, starting to scrub at the stains. A sing-song voice behind him, calling out his name, made him stop and smile a little as he felt hands on his shoulders and a torso pressing against his back, another man kneeling behind him.

He shifted, moving to sit cross-legged, smiling a little wider.

"Shunsui, what are you doing here?"

"Just got off duty. Heard you were called in to the Council scene- was it bad?"

"Not great, no."

"Turn around."

He did, and Shunsui took a cloth to Jyuushiro's blood-stained legs, slowing rinsing away the copper-coloured flakes of rust. Hot water streamed down his back, soaking his hair to his scalp.

"Got any leads?"

There was a pause, and Shunsui glanced up.

"Jyuu?"

"Do you remember that case, a few years back? Just after I moved to this department. Gang members in an Underground station- the lights went out just as they walked in, looking at the CCTV footage, so we couldn't see who it was. Found a bunch of addicts a few streets over, covered in their blood?"

"Vaguely, I think."

"All the lights went out in the meeting room- the CCTV footage is useless there, too. We found literal vials of blood there, dotted around- and we tested them. The only DNA record that came up was for those murdered gang members, from five years ago."

"Are you serious?"

"Those eight men and women from before, that were convicted? They've been set up, Shunsui, I'm sure."

"Can you prove it?"

"No."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Shunsui had dropped the cloth by now, and Jyuushiro's skin was clean and pink in the billowing steam. The only sound was that of running water, and soft breathing.

"I don't think, Shunsui, there is anything I can do."


	72. Millstone

Grimmjow and Luppi

**Millstone**

To be wearing the badge of another Espada still living, when you did not defeat them yourself, was a millstone around your neck. Luppi could see Grimmjow in the shadows, could hear his voice in the air, and all that the coldness promised was retribution for daring to take what was rightfully his away.

He woke up in the night breathless, a scream on his lips, as if Grimmjow's hands were already tightly caught around his neck.

Luppi watched his back, but as he learned of the human girl, and of her power, he realised that, soon enough, it would not be enough to be careful.

His days were numbered.

The weight of the '6' grew heavier.


	73. Football

Hitsugaya, Matsumoto, Kira, Hisagi, Maradame and Ayasegawa

**Football**

"This is meant to be a five-a-side football match, not a group of imbecilic morons tripping over their own feet!"

Ikkaku, in a fit of pique, picked up the ball and threw it with all of his strength (which is a substantial amount) into the open goal. Kira side-stepped it neatly, examining his nails in complete disinterest. Hisagi simply rolled his eyes from the half-way line at the diminutive captain, as Matsumoto glared at them from the sidelines, where she was stood with her hands on her hips.

"Captain! I want to play!"

"Matsumoto! You're more useless than the rest of them. If you insist on being here, then cheer us on."

Yumichika raised an eyebrow, raising a hand in the air to be noticed.

"Can I swap with Matsumoto? I think I'd look wonderful in a cheerleading outfit."


	74. Thin

Requested by Bowser Blanchette- thank you. Strange pairing :)

Hanatarou x Orihime x Tatsuki

**Thin**

Tatsuki sighed as she tried to straighten Orihime's arm as she stood stock still in a martial arts stance. The sentiment of her sigh did not falter when she looked at Hanatarou, who was already drooping into his normal stooped-shoulder stature.

The problem was, neither of them were built for combat.

She could feel the toughened muscle in her arms when she flexed, the coil of wired strength across her body. Her skin was tanned, and the palms of her hands were calloused and dry. There was nothing weak looking about her toned and stalwart frame.

But Hanatarou's ribs stuck out like etchings of scars on his chest, and his neck had the same narrow frailty as the stem of a lily. You could see the line of the bone on Orihime's wrists, and the delicate tracings of blue through her near-translucent skin. When he looked out at the world Hana blinked like a startled rabbit, caught in the headlights of a life that was going to be the death of him, and there were so many nights when she woke to the sound of Orihime's tears, buried in her pillow, at nightmares of blood and trying to heal people that were just too, too dead to ever be recovered.

They were immaculate, insubstantial, and all she could do was hold them and love them and try her hardest to teach them just how to defend themselves, if ever there came a time when they were separated from the shinigami, or from Ichigo.

They were thin creatures, in every sense of the world.

And the worst part was, she knew, that whilst she strived to protect them both, if a war were to ever reoccur, it would be the two of them sent back to the front line. Orihime would once more mend the unmendable, and Hanatarou would do what he could for those who were not so far into oblivion.

And she would wait alone at home, perfectly safe in a world far removed from theirs, practising her meagre assimilations of war and waiting for her frail, beautiful warriors to find their way safe to her bed again.


	75. Listen

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Nemu and Yumichika

**Listen**

"You can't see it, can you?"

"See what?"

He sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Listen to me, Lieutenant, and _see_ it."

"This is an abstract concept. I do not understand."

"_Try_."

She stared deep into the mirror, trying to find it.

"I'm sorry."

Yumichika rolled his eyes, and flopped down (with a completely stunning elegance, of course) onto an armchair.

"I'm going to make you see."

"I don't understand."

"Nemu. You are beautiful, and if it takes me _another_ three weeks, then I am going to make you listen to me."

"Why?"

"So that you'll believe me."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Because I like beautiful things, Nemu Kurotsuchi, and I don't like them to not realise that they are that way."


	76. Let

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Yachiru, Rukia and Byakuya

**Let**

"Let me in, let me in!"

_Or you'll blow my house down? She's already halfway there._

Rukia sighed, and secured the chair that was wedging the door shut. Yachiru hadn't thought of blasting it open yet, but she was pretty sure that she would do so soon enough.

"Let me in!"

The front hallway had already been ruined by Yachiru's creative mind and the permanent markers that some idiot had given her, and she had no idea how she was ever going to get everything looking pristine for when her brother returned home. She had tried to block off the rest of the house when she had seen an antique lampshade get re-decorated with a menacing stick figure that was shakily named 'Ken-chan'.

"Ah, no, Yachiru. Why don't you go and show Captain Zaraki your new pens?"

Her question was met with silence, and she wondered with awe whether or not her ploy had worked. She pulled back the chair and peeked around the door only to be met with the unflinching face of her brother, looking around the place as if he had never seen it before- well, she supposed, it wasn't like he had ever seen it anything short of perfect before.

Yachiru was lying on the floor, scrawling something onto the original oak floorboards.

"Nee-sama, I'm-"

"The first thing you have to learn with the Lieutenant is to divert her."

From the inside of his sleeve, he pulled out a tube of sweets, waving it in front of her until she got to her knees to reach out for it. When she did he swept the marker pen from her unresisting other hand. She was completely distracted as he swept her up in his arms and called Renji in from outside- Yachiru was deposited with him, to his dismay, for safe transferral.

"Rukia, see that someone cleans this up."

"Ah… yes, of course, Nee-sama."

He held out the marker pen to her, and she took it with some confusion.

"Make sure that is given to Abarai when he returns. Tell him that he should enlist the help of the Lieutenants of the Seventh and… yes, the Tenth Divisions, and should return this to the Eleventh. To the Captain's office, specifically."

"I… yes, I will do."

"Make sure to inform them of the damage that his Lieutenant had served us, and make sure that they do a very… thorough job."

Rukia blinked and nodded as he stepped around abandoned decorations to his rooms, unsure whether she had just been ordered to vandalize the office of another Captain with permanent markers.

If she had, then he was definitely loosing up.

Which, it appeared, had worrying consequences.


	77. Between

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Byakuya x Hisana

**Between**

He had spent his whole life watching storm-clouds. They appeared to always be on the horizon, waiting to break over him. He had struggled to sleep without Senbonzakura's hilt sticking out from underneath his pillow, where he could reach it. He had done it since he had first felt the incarnation in his hands, but when Hisana came to lie beside him she had said that it made her feel nervous; had said, what are you so afraid of?

_Why are you afraid?_

He didn't know: he still didn't know, but there was the faintest traces of wind stirring the loose strands of his hair. Those clouds were darkening, and the sound of his heartbeat in his ears sounded like the drum of lashing rain.

_Why are you afraid, love?_

He could see those broiling, boiling clouds and he could see the threat, too. Hisana was drifting away from him, every day was slipping a little more out of his reach. She was looking thinner, more tired. Now it was she who struggled to sleep, and he who watched over her until exhaustion made her drop off. He would brush her hair from her face and whisper in the dark words never to be said out loud.

_What are you so afraid of?_

She would stir, and he would withdraw his hand, because gone were the days when such tenderness was commonplace between them.

She would sigh the name of a girl that he had never met, and some nights would cry.

All he had ever known, since he was old enough to understand such things, was that between the beginning and the ending, all you could guarantee was that there was going to be the good with the bad.

That between the here and the then, there would be storms.


	78. Taste

Grimmjaw x Ulquiorra

**Taste**

He tastes like something forbidden, and definitely something different. His skin is white and shines in the darkness, looking pure and untainted even though there is no one in this place who can call themselves that. He's ironically angelic, and his moans echo in the darkness like the howl of an animal enraged at the taste of blood on his tongue.

His eyes flash as they catch my own, burning into me.

I lick his skin again, and he pushes closer to me, trying to melt our skin together into some kind of frustrated union.

I hear his gasps in my ear and his fingers against my skin, but I know that if I were to look at him his mouth would close, and his eyes would be blank.

His breath is hot on my neck in the shadows.

His face is expressionless still, and I am panting.

He tastes like an escape.


	79. Anyone

Requested by Nadie- thank you

The Captains

**Anyone**

Colour meant something, it always did. It said something about the people wearing them: some people even said that it had meaning in itself. But meaningful or meaningless, the colour of the Captain's haori lining had changed over the many, many years.

Originally, when the Gotei had been formed, the thirteen Captains had each chosen the symbol of their division, and a corresponding colour to match. The Captain-Commander wore a purple the same as the chrysanthemums that grew outside his office window: the first thing that had shown its colourful heads in the new building.

Unohana, so much older and more worn than her face would suggest, had chosen bellflowers not dissimilar to the ones that she distributed around her rows of dying shinigami, but her lining was the greying pink hue that they took when they started to die. She thought that was apt.

Shinji had never known why the first Captain of his division had chosen that particular shade of green, but had worn it with the half-hearted pride of tradition that most people have when they don't think too much about it. After him, Aizen wore it because it was expected that he would, and that was the time when he was keeping up his wonderful disguise. The ripples had been caused by Ichimaru, who had abandoned the original colour of his division and wore Aizen's, as a show of loyalty. Had anyone been paying more attention, they might have drawn the link between them sooner, stronger.

Many Captains kept the colours out of a traditionalist sense of purpose: perhaps, out of a misguided sense of righteousness. Byakuya had liked the elegance of the blue lining, and Komamura had respected the sobriety and dignity of the colour brown. Tousen had kept the tan colour not because he had thought about disguise, but because he had no concept of colour, and so had never considered the importance of it. Kyouraku, on the other hand, had changed his own to a dark pink after a while to match his latest clothing acquisition; Ukitake had changed his to red once it became obvious that the blood that daubed his previously white lining- where he was forced to dab his mouth if he was caught without anything else- would stain.

Kurotsuchi darkened the green of his own: not too noticeably, but because the olive reminded him too much of Urahara. Hitsugaya's had changed only because Matusmoto had not thought he suited the previous colour, and he simply had not noticed yet.

Soi Fon had kept the orange of her former Captain, but she did that because she wore the same haori. It had been a great many years since she could even pretend to smell Yoruichi on it, but it was a comfort still. People knew, people noticed: people didn't question. That was the Captain of the Second Division. Zaraki too wore the haori of his predecessor, but because he had taken it from the fallen body of his predecessor as a show of his newly won position, as a badge of his victory in the fight.

After all, _anyone_ could wear the colour.

That didn't make the Captain.


	80. Simultaneous

Requested by itazura- thank you disappointment

Ichigo x Yylfordt

**Simultaneous**

The power shortage had blacked out Karakura just as Ichigo's window had silently opened, and a figure had slipped in from behind the curtain. Ichigo sighed, at the intrusion and the darkness but particularly at the idiotic comment that was soon forthcoming.

"Damn, I can't see _anything_."

Ichigo rolled his eyes.

"What, you think you're fucking blind? My torch is on my desk somewhere."

"Ichigo, I can't see anything!"

"Will you shut the hell up and help me find the torch? I fucking know its dark, idiot."

"Stop your bitching, you-"

Simultaneously, their hands found the torch, Ichigo's thumb switching it on. It lit up the back wall, and Yylfordt's grinning face. Ichigo dropped it as if it were red hot, and it rolled on the floor illuminating them from below, eerily. There was a wail from a siren outside, and the room was lit with sudden, flashing blue.

"Yo, Ichigo. Missed me?"

The light cast shadows across their faces, making them both look strangely angular, their cheekbones deeply hollowed and their eyes nearly black, looking as if no emotion flickered through them, although Ichigo knew full well that Yylfordt let everything show.

"Fuck off."

Yylfordt leant against the table, head to one side. He ruffled his hair with one hand, the other moving to Ichigo's collar, slipping his finger-tips inside to stroke the lower hollow of his throat.

Their eyes met at the same time, and Yylfordt pressed himself against the shinigami, moving with a sinuous grace, as if every part of him were synchronised liquid. He purred Ichigo's name, moving with the shinigami completely in time with the other's movements, moving them away from the desk and the yellow light. The torch flickered, batteries dying, so now they moved in and out of darkness, still in perfect step, a well rehearsed pattern, in concord, a matched pace.

"You're so mean, Ichigo."

"Shut up."

He pressed their mouths together, winning dominance over the kiss as the back of Yylfordt's knees hit the side of the bed. Ichigo felt hungry for the taste of him, hungry for the feel of the lithe body that was currently keeping pace with his, that was currently taking both of their clothes off with pace and skill. He knew that if he had been trying to do it, it would have been flurried and awkward.

Yylfordt pulled him down onto the covers, rolling his hips upwards, pressing every inch of himself against Ichigo, not letting any gap grow between them.

His breath was rushed, effeminate, panting and still a little insulting.

"Bite me, Ichigo."

Ichigo complied.


	81. Pull

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

_Just know that when you hear me scream sometimes  
__I'm trying to rid the poison from my mind  
_The Spill Canvas

Hichigo x Rukia

**Pull**

When she dreamt of Ichigo, it was sweet and comfortable, but the heat came from her nightmares, when she writhed and screamed under the phantom touches of an Ichigo whose hair was white, whose hands were pitiless, and whose eyes were always shadowed and unreadable. But there was something about those nightmares that kept pulling her back, as if there were some memory, some fixation deep in her subconscious that had wired itself to the thought of embraces that were annihilation.

And it kept pulling her mind back to him, though she tried not to, because every time she fantasized of his mouth on her, his body pressed against hers, she felt more corrupted, more wrong, more sinful.

All the more amazing.

His tongue was hot and cruel, and though he would look like Ichigo if you were colour-blind she was not, and she could not forget that if ever she were to come across him in reality, he would pull her to pieces without a second thought.

Perhaps that, in its strange, abhorrent way, was part of the attraction.

She closed her eyes, and thought of creature she could never touch with tenderness.

She dreamt of white; she screamed.


	82. Experiment

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Orihime and Momo

**Experiment**

The latest experiment that the Fourth Division had decided to implement was a distraction technique. They sent those patients who had lingering psychological ailments out under supervision to do something that would distract them from their problems. Some were sent to theme parks, some were sent out hiking- Hinamori had failed on both counts, so now, under human-agent Orihime's supervision, she was being taken shopping.

They had gone around clothes shops and music stores, had gone to lunch and around food halls, and still Momo had kept that sad little look in her eye. She had made the motions of having fun, but by the end of the day, Orihime had realised that it just was not happening.

"So, what do you think? We could go and see a film now we're done, or…"

She trailed off as she realised that Momo was no longer by her side. She turned around in the busy street to see that the girl had stopped, and was staring into a window with rapt interest. Orihime was pretty sure that this was the first time today that Momo had looked at something with such appeal, a small wry smile making her hollowed cheeks and shadowed eyes almost pretty.

Perhaps the day was not over, after all.

She went back, to stand behind Momo's eyes and look inside.

It was an opticians. She was staring at a pair of square, thick rimmed glasses in the display.

Momo let out a little sigh.

Experiment: failed.


	83. Good

Chad, Urahara, and Renji

**Good**

Chad lifted another box without expression.

"Are you sure you don't mind doing that?"

He shrugged reassuringly at Ururu, who was watching him with wide, concerned eyes. Kisuke smiled and fanned his face.

"Oh, you are a good boy!"

"Stop patronising him!"

"Oh, Renji, I wish you were more like Chad!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"What do you think it means? I wish you were stronger, prettier to look at and a hell of a lot quieter."

"Why, you son of a-

Chad put down the box. His voice was soft, and his tone was clipped.

"Stop arguing."

The room went quiet.


	84. Catch

"_It sees me through my darkest days:  
__I'm gonna keep catching that butterfly,  
__In that dream of mine"  
_- The Verve

Ichigo x Rukia

**Catch**

He'd spent a long time dreaming about what it would be like to hold her, to have her, to see her smile up at him from the security of his arms.

He could imagine her there, trapped next to him, never leaving the protection of his side and his strength. He had waited patiently for her to forget the constraints of her brother and life, and the thought of what could happen made all the terrible things he had seen bearable, made every death that had befallen by his zanpakuto seem a little less exhausting.

She was as delicate as the wings of a hell butterfly, and as perfect as the summer sky that he could see her staring at, sometimes, with abandonment and happiness.

She was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen, and as the window slid open in the middle of the night, and he looked up to see her smiling down at him, he briefly reflected that it was terrifyingly wonderful, how lucky he had been, to have caught her.

Such deep thoughts, however, were quickly sent from his mind as she fell on top of him and kissed him senseless.


	85. Kindness

Kira and Yachiru

**Kindness**

He got along, going from day to day with that sad, lonely look in his eyes. He wandered through his captain-less division without a word, looking for all the world like he was looking for something he had lost. His eyes were dark and empty.

When he smiled it was half-hearted, weak.

It was when people were starting to give up hope that a little hand grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled at it, trying to get his attention.

The face smiling up at him was bright and warm, full of life and a vibrancy that he did not ever remember feeling himself, although he was sure than once he must have done so. Distracted and a little bemused, he found himself being led into a shop to buy the fellow lieutenant some of her favourite sweets.

Since then, every time he hears a high pitched voice yelling an insulting a nickname, his face lights up.

His friends are glad for her kindness.

So was he: he just wished she pulled his hair less.


	86. Highlights

For Nadie- because she wanted to see Hisagi doing his hair

Hisagi (with Yumichika, Yachiru, Ikkaku, Kira Renji, and Matsumoto)

**Highlights**

Shuuhei sat in front of a mirror. He was not a particularly vain man, and he did not bother much about his face or the scars that laced it, but there was something vital to him about his hair. He couldn't explain it, despite all the people who had asked- it was just something he liked to perfect.

What he didn't like, was people interrupting him whilst he did it.

"Waaahh! You look so beautiful, Lieutenant!"

The door was slammed in Yumichika's face as the fifth seat caught sight of him with his damp hair in tendrils down his face, fresh out of the shower.

He had only just restored his cool when a large weight barrelled into his back as Yachiru threw herself at what she had mistakenly assumed to be a new fabric monster for her to 'play' with- unfortunately, since that monster was Hisagi towelling the water out of his hair, it hurt.

A lot.

As did his pride when, three minutes later, Ikkaku barged in, trying to find his Lieutenant, who he was supposed to be watching, catching Shuuhei with a hairdryer.

"Ha! Fuckin' girl!"

"You're jealous, ass, that I can grow some and you can't."

He shoved Ikkaku out before the spluttering man could protest, and sat down in front of his mirror to try and finish his morning practise in peace.

Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and before he went to open it he made sure that all incriminating evidence was hidden away from sight. In the hallway, Kira looked flustered, carrying a large folder. He was, it transpired, looking for Renji, who needed to counter-sign a rather weighty report on a hollow attack that had involved squads of shinigami from both divisions.

Unfortunately, as Kira explained this, he caught sight of a tube of product that made the hair silky-smooth that Shuuhei had overlooked, tucked _just in sight _behind a chair. Kira made a grab for it.

"Oh, Matsumoto gave me some of this. Does it work?"

Shuuhei blinked. Not _too _bad.

Unfortunately, that was the moment that Renji decided to appear, having followed directions to where Kira had last been spotted. His sentiment rather mirrored Ikkaku, but Hisagi did not even have the jealousy excuse. Renji has a nice head of hair.

When Matsumoto arrived behind _them,_ looking for Yachiru, (who, he could tell by the screams and bangs, was still in his division headquarters) who was late for a SWA meeting, he had had enough.

She stared at him thoughtfully, head on one side.

"You know, you might look nice with some highlights."

Hisagi, in a final fit of pique, threw his brush at the mirror.

The long crack that distorted the view of his unfinished hair did not make him feel any better, at all.


	87. Smother

Apache x Sun-Sun x Mila-Rose

**Smother**

Apache glared down at the two bodies that were draped over her legs and torso. She could not understand why the other two did not get that she did not like… cuddling after sex. Or at all, for that matter. She was left feeling sticky under their hot skin, sore from being unable to stretch and move, and then generally just pissed off because she was unable to sleep, and she knew that the other two would bitch at her for being in a mood the next day.

She rolled her shoulders and Sun-Sun shifted with a quiet moan, her eyes screwing up in her sleep with the disturbance.

Apache's glare softened into something more gentle, and she rested a hand on each of their heads lightly.

She tried not to smile.

Being smothered was pissing annoying, but she supposed she could live with it.


	88. Blind

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Does anyone else think it was pretty harsh of Hisana just to ditch a baby like that? I mean, she was pretty much condemning Rukia to death in the streets…

Byakuya x Rukia

**Blind**

How could he, for so long, have been so blind to the truth?

He had thought his feeling for her was because she was his sister, because she was someone close to him. He thought he was pushing her away because it was his duty to his position, but now he realised he was just too afraid to be too close to her. When he had held her body against his own bleeding and broken one, Aizen gloating above them, he felt the warmth of her existance and wanted to press against her, inside her, in the hold of his arms and the hold of the rest of time.

He was his sister, his ward, his beacon of light in the darkness of grief, his love.

The truth, he realised now, was that she was not Hisana at all- in fact, she was nothing at all like the sister that she did not remember. She was resilient to Hisana's weakness, and there was a spark in her eyes that he did not remember his wife ever having. Rukia laughed, now that she felt it was okay to do so, and it was loud and audacious with no utterance of reserve or shyness.

It was wrong, wrong, and so wonderfully right that the taste of her mouth felt like a heaven that he had been missing, the truth that he had been blind to for so, so long.

And as she pressed hands to his cheeks he felt as if other hands were being taken away from his eyes, as if the darkness was lifted.

As if suddenly, he could see again.


	89. Shrine

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Starrk x Yuzu

**Shrine**

When he took Yuzu's hand in his it felt like he was leading a lamb to the slaughter. He could see himself, the big bad wolf, sacrificial blade at the ready, her blood on his hands. She looked up at him with eyes wide and trusting, her body warm and pleasing as it turned towards him. She was trusting, she was true, and she loved him for his sins.

She pressed feather-kisses to his mouth, to his cheeks, to his throat, to anywhere she could reach as he lifted her up, legs thin and white and hanging loose in the air against his chest.

He heard his name whispered in the darkness, her voice igniting the nerves in his body as she slipped into the room, glowing white in the darkness.

It was wrong, painfully wrong, but it felt so painfully good at the same time. Morality told him to stop it, to halt it now before he broke her down. But then her little hands were pulling him down onto the bed, and he tasted the sweetness of her sacrificial skin in his mouth, and took her on the shrine of his worship.


	90. Stuck

Requested by Bowser Blanchette, and inspired by the emails that Waterstones keeps sending me- apparently, if you buy a Valentines gift there, you get the wrapping paper free. I can already see the flocking crowds…

Ichigo x Kiyone

**Stuck**

She walked into the room to find Ichigo stuck to what looked like three miles of wrapping paper. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor with irregular shapes cut out of gold and pink paper scrunched up all around him. There were bits stuck in his hair and bits taped to his clothes, and wrinkled up sellotape abandoned on the carpet.

"Ichigo?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow and pulled her gloves off, trying not to laugh at the sight of Ichigo trying to look nonchalant in the middle of the carnage of paper. She intentionally did not stare at the lump in the plastic bag that was half-sticking out from behind Ichigo's back.

"Okay then."

She smiled at him, and knelt in front of him, to start picking bits of paper out of his hair. She did give into laughter at the sight of Ichigo's annoyed and half-amused face, wincing every time she tugged too hard. She had to laugh again though, the next night, when he took her out for a Valentines Day meal, and her present was beautifully, professionally wrapped, with ribbon and curly bits of decoration. She knew he'd cave and take to a shop in the end.

Kiyone kissed him.

It was the thought that counted.


	91. Telescope

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you.

Rukia, Kiyone and Isane

**Telescope**

Isane walked into her apartment to be met with the apparent sight that a bomb had exploded. There were empty and full wrappers of food lying around, and bunched up blankets on the sofa where a film had been paused in what looked like the opening credits. Her medical textbooks had been pulled off her neat bookshelf and had been stacked up, a telescope perched unsteadily on the pile.

"Kiyone! What are you doing here?"

"Shut up, Isane, and come and look!"

Rukia and Kiyone were, for whatever reason, in her quarters, grouped around this large telescope, balanced and pointing out of the window. The two grabbed her hands and pulled her close, so she could look down it and see what appeared to be the SMS's monthly evening meeting. She could see, to her dismay, Iba scratching his backside.

"We're under orders, from Lieutenant Yachiru. We have to spy on the SMS and take photographs of them."

Isane blinked.

"Why?"

"Apparently they are plotting against us."

Isane's look was sceptical, and Rukia shrugged.

"I don't know. I've stopped questioning her logic."

"Hey, look- they're disbanding."

"That was an entirely useless night. Nothing of worth- they just drank and ate and played poker."

"Well, what have you been doing?"

"Drinking, eating and watching films."

Isane nodded, and moved to start tidying up the packets and wrappers that littered her floor. She was rolling her eyes at all the mess, thinking of the work she had left to do that night, when she was pulled down onto the sofa by the other two girls, and the film was started up. A bar of chocolate was thrust into her hands, the litter scattered, and a blanket thrown over the three of them.

"Isane, for once in your lifetime stop worrying and have some _fun._"

Grudgingly, she did.

What better way is there to do so than with a chunk of something unhealthy in your hands?


	92. Eventually

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Renji x Rukia

**Eventually**

He had spent too long lagging behind her, too long feeling like the stray who still had not caught up, who still was not good enough for her, for the beautiful daughter of the Kuchiki house. He had been left out in the cold, left out to fend for himself and fight for his honour and everything he had reached his needy hands for.

But now she was kissing him, on a flight of stairs in his own division, three up from him so she was tall enough to reach over. Her eyes were closed, but he could only tell because his were open, too much in shock to react. Her _brother_ was through that door just there, and what would he think if he were to walk in? Would she snap to her senses, jump away, realise her mistake?

He wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough for her.

Why was she doing this?

"Renji?"

He spluttered, he blinked. She had pulled away, and was looking at him.

"You can kiss me back, you know."

And then she was doing it again, once more pressing the impossible against his lips, and her hands- calloused from training, with neat clipped nails- were on his shoulders, fisting into his uniform. He came to his senses, his own hands- far rougher than hers, dry and peeling skin- reaching up to cradle her face with an infinite tenderness that he did not know he possessed.

Right there and then he realised, eventually, that he would _never_ feel good enough for Rukia, but as long as she thought that he did, it didn't matter at all.


	93. Impossible

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Unohana x Isane

**Impossible**

She never complained, or whined, or moaned- she was impossibly, wonderfully, amazingly balanced. Sane, rational, lovely and gracious. She listened to every one of Isane's worries, listened to her grumble and sigh about the world, and never said anything in turn. She never felt the need to weigh down other people with her troubles.

And in a very breathtakingly perfect way, it was really, _really_ annoying.

"_What's wrong, Isane?"_

"_Nothing."_

_A hand on her cheek, warm and soft._

"_Talk to me."_

"_It's just…"_

And then it would start again. She would try not to say anything, but it was always prised from her with such a gentle force that she only realised afterwards what she had done.

"_What's wrong, Isane?"_

"_Are you okay?"_

"_You know you can talk to me."_

"How about you, Retsu? Is there anything you want to complain about?"

Her Captain paused, and thought for a moment, before pressing a kiss to Isane's forehead with a gravity and tenderness that made her want to cry.

"I'm always fine, Isane, when you are here."

Breathtakingly, heartbreakingly annoying.

She supposed there were worse flaws for her lover to have.

She kissed Retsu back, and smiled.


	94. Hell

Halibel and Toushiro

**Hell**

Toushiro stared at the Espada in front of him and scowled in despair.

It was his curse to be surrounded by them.

An actual, inescapable, inexplicable, undeserved curse.

He glanced to the side, thinking about his lieutenant.

Breasts were his idea of hell.


	95. Sparks

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Shuuhei x Orihime

**Sparks**

She hoped that she was not just some phase that Shuuhei was going through, just some cute little bird, a human world novelty to parade in front of his drinking buddies with a grin and a witty quip. There were a million girls better than she was out there- prettier and funnier and stronger than she, ones who could fight better and ones that could fuck better and ones who could drink for far longer.

She felt hopelessly inadequate when faced with the sight of all these better women- she would not blame Shuuhei if he wanted to pick one of them over her.

But when he kissed her it felt like sparks flew up and down her body, and by the way he looked at her, she was sure that he felt that exact same way, as well. He held on to her so tightly that it felt like he would never let go, like he would spend eternity with her skin underneath his fingertips.

And when he smiled it was like a sunrise, and when he pressed her knuckles to his lips it felt like something that might last forever.


	96. Cringe

For those of you who are not familiar with the first instalment of these drabbles, each time I cross a hundred marker I do a ten-part special on a certain theme- this time, I am doing cross-overs. I've tried to pick things that a lot of people will have watched/read… so, enjoy.

_Haruhi Suzumiya and the rest of the SOS Brigade, from 'The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya'_

Haruhi and Renji

**Cringe**

"Have you seen the new transfer student?!"

One face did not look up from her book, and the second just rolled his eyes as he turned back to the board between him and the third, who expressed the smile of interest that she had been looking for. The fourth squeaked a little as she spilled hot tea on her fingers at the sound of the door banging open, and their esteemed leader making her proclamation.

"His hair! Such a colour! So unusual- he must have really strange parents, maybe even from other planets!"

Kyon sighed. He felt a headache coming on already.

"And his tattoos! He was evidently the member of some nefarious gang in his previous life, cast out because of some mysterious deed!"

She pointed a finger towards the window, in the vague direction of other school buildings, and Kyon suppressed a groan as Koizumi made a winning move. For all of their sakes, he hoped that this new exchange student was just another human. Lord knows, what would be next? He'd had enough of aliens, espers and time-travellers to last him a lifetime. What was next- a death god?

"I intend to find him! He's going to be the newest member of the SOS Brigade! He'll breathe new life into this group in a way that none of you boring humans could ever do!"

And with that final (insulting) word, she slammed the door back behind her, and ran off.

Somewhere across school, Renji suppressed a cringing shudder, as if someone had just walked over his grave.

He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that today was not going to go well.

Not at all.


	97. Ugly

_Ryuuk, from 'Death Note'_

Ryuuk, Hisagi and Ichimaru

**Ugly**

"So… you're a shinigami as well?"

There was a short nod, and the wide unerring smile did not waver.

"But, according to the files from our Research and Development Institute, you're from a different plain as to where we are."

"Indeed."

Hisagi felt his own half-smile widening to match the visitors.

"Very well. I am Lieutenant Shuuhei Hisagi, and I am here to escort you to the Captain who will be observing you during your visit. Unfortunately, he is running a little late."

His smile, although he did not think that it could, grew wider still. His own followed suit and he cursed his mouth, acting of its own accord. They walked silently, and he stretched taller, feeling a little inadequate. He watched, out of the corner of his eyes, the other shinigami run his fingers over the large black book tucked into his belt and wondered, for a moment, what it was that he was here to deliver.

"Ah, you must be Ryuuk."

The long-limbed shinigami pulled the book out fully, and nodded his head silently to the Captain.

Gin turned his head to the side, his smile widening slightly. Apparently, this was a theme.

"You're a lot… uglier than I thought you'd be."

Hisagi ducked out of sight, rubbing his cheeks.

How on earth did they smile that much without permanent muscle damage?


	98. Mean

_Ryou Bakura's darker half, the spirit of the Millennium Ring, from 'Yu-Gi-Oh!'_

Bakura and Grimmjow

**Mean**

"Son of a bitch, if that moron gets in my way one more-"

A crash, two men on the floor. Glares exchanged between the two.

"Bastard!"

"Watch the fuck where you're going!"

A knife drawn from somewhere within his clothes, a hand on the hilt of a zanpakuto.

"You watch your fucking mouth, or I'll cut your tongue out!"

A pause.

White hair gleaming in the darkness of the night time alley. The second head turned to one side, eyes bright.

"You're mean."

There was a wide smile, a glint of pointed canine.

"I like it."

This could be the start of a beautiful friendship. Or else the scene of a rather bloody fight.


	99. Bell

_Tamaki Suoh, from 'Ouran High School Host Club'_

Tamaki, Ichigo, Chad, Ishida, Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro

**Bell**

"We could make a fantastic host club here, you know?"

He was met with stunned silence, and he tossed a strand of his hair across his face and smiled brilliantly across the room. These commoners. Obviously struck dumb by his beauty. But not to worry- he would help them out.

"But first, we need our characters!"

He flicked his hand to his own figure, dressed in an immaculately tailored and well-kept variation of the Karakura High School uniform.

"I shall be your King, of course. But we also need a cool type- someone suave, intelligent and efficient enough to keep us all in check."

He gestured to Ishida, who rolled his eyes at the idiocy.

"Twins… if only in spirit… mischievous and bickering!"

He slung arms around the shoulders of Mizuiro and Keigo, who looked back at him with the air of startled rabbits.

"A strong and silent man- to look after his innocent and wayward ward!"

He removed the arms, throwing his hands in the direction of Chad, and then pointing over at Ichigo.

"Hey! What the hell are you implying?!"

Tamaki ignored the snort of derision of the group at effectively assigning Ichigo to the loli-con character in this strange charade.

"And of course the 'boy next door' type."

His final point was towards Tatsuki, who stared at his (manicured) finger like it was about to blow up in her face.

"I'm not a-"

A loud ring cut through whatever she was planning on saying.

"Ah, the bell!"

He sighed and clicked his fingers as the bell that signified the end of lunch rang out.

"Well, we shall have to continue this later, dear friends. Until next time!"

He swept out, completely unaware of the ominous atmosphere that followed him out.

Tamaki smiled, and ran a hand through his hair.

This might prove to be fun.


	100. Odd

_Kakashi Hatake, from 'Naruto'_

Kakashi and Lisa

**Odd**

Only the oddest of people walk around with their noses buried in erotic manga, Lisa thought. If you were going to read it, at least do it in the privacy of your own home.

God.

Have some decency, at least.

He was as tall as Kensei but not quite so muscle bound, and he walked with the disinterested swagger of a man who paid no interest to the rest of the world, or universe, at that. The man had a shock of grey hair and a mask that covered the most of his face- the fabric kind, rather than the hollow type. She supposed if he had have been wearing the latter, they might have been soul-mates.

Or at least a decent fuck-buddy between editions of her favourite erotic nanga.

She rolled her eyes at his back as he walked past. How much of a fool did he look?

Turning back for home, she ignored the looks that people were giving the oversized school-girl swinging a large carrier bag labelled 'XXXratedGIRLZ'.


	101. Blade

_The Sword Card, from 'Cardcaptor Sakura'_

The Sword, Zangetsu and Ichigo

**Blade**

Zangetsu did not like this.

He did not like this at all.

He had felt no sense of worry when Ichigo had leant to pick up the brooch, but now, all of a sudden, there was a strange presence in his mind, and Ichigo was screaming (loudly, annoyingly) that he couldn't move any of his limbs. He was pretty sure that he couldn't rely on that hollow that haunted Ichigo's mind, either. He was just laughing that Ichigo got thrown over by a piece of jewellery.

He sighed, and closed his eyes as a large, diamond-tipped sword materialised in front of them all.

The Sword was used to chivalry. He was expecting a fight.

What he was not expecting was a pissed off orange-haired teenage boy, who was used to being thrown around in his own body, head-butting the blade so hard that it cracked.

"Fuck you!"

A card fell to the ground.

Ichigo, having regained his body, leant to pick it up, frowning.

"What the fuck is an 'Ichigo Card'?"


	102. Introversion

_Sesshomaru and Jaken, from 'Inuyasha'_

Sesshomaru, Byakuya, Jaken and Renji

**Introversion**

The two stood silently in a room, with their backs to each other.

"This place is…"

"Indeed."

"Quite."

There was no soft sigh, no sound at all that either had dwelt on the only words spoken between the two in the last three hours.

"Get out of my way!"

"Hey, asshole! Captain Kuchiki is through there!"

"The Lord Sesshomaru will-"

"Fuck you!"

The door crashed open in a whirl of green limbs and red hair, and the two stately individuals both raised a simultaneous, matching eyebrow of derision at the noisy interference.

"Jaken."

"Abarai."

"_Quiet."_


	103. Mistake

_Soubi Agatsuma and Ritsuka Aoyagi, from 'Loveless'_

Soubi, Ritsuka and Urahara

**Mistake**

One blonde glared to the other.

"I assure you, it was a complete mistake!"

A fan flicked open to cover a smirk.

Ritsuka's hand was over his mouth, pursed prettily in shock, and his other was occupied trying to hold Soubi back from the strange man from whom they were trying to buy sweets. The shop looked as if it was never visited, dark and stuffy.

"I promise you, I am not at all a pervert. I honestly thought he was a girl."

This did not make Soubi's glare become any less intense.

"Is that an excuse?"

"He's underage!"

Kisuke blinked.

"And this seems so obviously to have stopped you."

"Hey!"

It was the little boy who protested that time, grabbing his paper bag and Soubi by the wrist and pulling them backwards out of the shop, his glare almost as intense as Soubi's.

Kisuke flipped his fan back down as the door clicked shut.

When he was due four shinigami all demanding gigai, getting rid of unwanted customers was a prerogative.

Come on.

It wasn't like he had a business he needed to run, or anything.


	104. Again

_Roronoa Zoro and Monkey D. Luffy , from 'One Piece'_

Zoro and Kenpachi, Yachiru and Luffy

**Again**

"Ha! The fuck you need three swords for, ass? Not good enough with one?"

"Shut the hell up!"

Kenpachi levelled his own zanpakuto, his grin manic and his singular visible eye bright with satisfaction.

"Prove me wrong. See if those three little knives can make me bleed."

Zoro scowled, taking a blade in each hand and the third tight between his teeth. He wasn't smiling, but there was a glint in his stare that suggested he was enjoying himself.

They fought in a blur of limbs and flashing steel, nicking each other but not drawing deep blood. The only sound was of panting and the clash of metal and the occasionally short laugh, almost infectious.

Yachiru half dozed on the sidelines underneath the warmth of a straw hat, lulled by the smell of cooked meat from the vendor that had taken up residence near them. The man next to her spoke around mouthfuls of kebab, munching, his eyes staring out onto the field.

"Zoro ain't gonna stop, you know. You're big Captain is going to have to stop sometime."

Yachiru yawed.

"Ken-chan ain't ever gonna stop whilst he's still standing."

Luffy sighed.

A pause back with the fighting men, as one took his blade from between his teeth to ease his aching jaw and the other let himself catch his breath.

"You ain't bad, kid."

"Not gonna ask me if I'm gonna surrender?"

"You can fuck off."

Dusk fell. Blades still smashed.

"Again?"

The reply was spat out around the hilt of a sword.

"Again."


	105. Stop

I'm considering starting a new drabble collection, for another anime. Could I ask a massive favour from you guys? Would you go on my profile and answer the poll about which show I should write for next? I'd appreciate it.

_Ash Ketchum, from 'Pokemon'_

Ash and Komamaru

**Stop**

Thunk.

A deep growl.

Thunk.

"Stop that, stop that right now."

Thunk.

"I said, stop it."

Thunk.

"If you throw that ball at me one more time, I may have to physically restrain you."

"Bulbasaur, I choose you!"

Komamaru sighed. It was going to be a long day.


	106. Pursuade

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Yoruichi and Yuzu

**Persuade**

"C'mon, you know you want to."

"Ah, I don't kn-"

"But it is perfect! We'll give you a ten percent cut."

Yuzu shrugged uneasily.

"I just don't know how easy it will be to take pictures of my brother shirtless. He doesn't walk around like that too often, you know?"

"But I get a twenty percent cut from what my colleagues will make selling it!"

Yuzu frowned, the unfortunate sting of morality biting.

"Well… who are these colleagues, any way?"

Yoruichi flicked her wrist, as if trying to flick the question away. Before she could say anything more, Ichigo appeared through a haze of steam, towel wrapped around his waist, damp from the shower.

Flash!

He fell in an undignified heap on the floor in surprise, his sister running to help him up. Yoruichi cackled as she flash-stepped away, the camera tight in her hand. Yuzu had some explaining to do as, from over the fleeing woman's shoulder, Ichigo heard

"Thanks, Yuzu! I'll bring you your cut later!"


	107. Snake

Matsumoto and Toushiro

**Snake**

"Captain, is that your trouser snake?"

A sharp look.

"What?"

"Trouser snake!"

"Matsumoto!"

"Snake!"

"Have you been drinking again?"

"With a snake?"

"Or in general?"

"Maybe?"

"Matsumoto, what have I told you about drinking in office hours?!"

"That I should only do it with snakes?"

"No!"

"Without snakes?"

Toushiro hit his forehead.

"I give up."


	108. Write

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

_"Don't be so amazing or I'll miss you too much"  
_- Bright Eyes

Urahara x Yoruichi

**Write**

He opened the letter that lay on his pillow, folded into four and scuffed at the edges. She never gave him any excuses, and for that he was grateful- just, as always, the warm, worn out motif of 'I'll be back soon' and her scratched initials at the bottom, followed by two x's.

He smiled, and tucked it in his sleeves.

He never knew how long that 'soon' would be; when he would next see her. He never did, but he did not mind, despite the fact that he missed her terribly when she was gone. But this way at least was flawed, almost cruel: if she wrote to him of apologies and excuses, of reasons and love, he might not have been able to stand it. This way, he could pretend she was only going to be out for a few hours, and he could get on with his life with her away.

Four months later, he would walk back into his room to find her there, stretched out naked on his pillow, hand resting on her palm and that smile – oh, that smile – lighting up every inch of her face.

And he would say not a word, only pull of his clothes and tumble down on top of her.

"Did you miss me," he would grin, not at all serious or questioning, and she would grin back, maybe dig her nails into his back a little.

"Shut up."

He would kiss her, knowing full well the answer.


	109. Reach

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Isane and Tatsuki

**Reach**

"And how were you affected by the discovery of the Shinigami?"

"Not too upset, I guess. I was more annoyed when they kept refusing to tell us what they were up to."

"So, tell me, how does that make you feel now?"

She shrugged.

"I guess it doesn't bother me, not now I know why they were keeping those things from us."

"You know, you're very balanced, for a teenager."

"Why, how you feel if you were in my situation?"

Isane sighed. These compulsory therapy sessions for in Karakura involved in the Winter War were long and arduous.

"I'd be heartbroken. I'd feel betrayed."

"And why would you feel that way?"

"Well, I guess I was always overlooked as a child, because my sister is so much more vibrant that I am, and because of that I always feel like people forget me. And I would take it personally too, but maybe that is because I am so self-conscious, because of my height, and I was always bullied for it when I was a child. I guess I've always…"

A clock chimed the hour, cutting her off, and Tatsuki grinned.

"Well, I think we've reached new levels today."

"Wait, what?"

"I'll see you next week, Lieutenant!"

Isane hung her head as the door slammed behind her. She was _not _good at therapy.


	110. Even

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Miyako x Kaien x Rukia

**Even**

Every moment, now only in her memory, held a sacred preservative that she was sure meant that they would never fade. The soft, cool white of Miyako's arms as they wrapped around her, the feeling of Kaien's warm breath against her neck.

The sight of blood, all the more boldly red in her mind, even in the darkness. The taste of their lips, cold as they were laid out in the morgue, her last kiss for them both.

They were buried together, grave by grave, matching headstones, holding hands in the dank, foetid earth.

And even if, in the long course of time, she were to move on from them, she knew there would never be any moment where she could feel so secure, so held, so loved. There was no way that life could ever be as perfect as it had been nothing more than a few days ago. She wanted to sink into the rain-kissed ground, into the band of filthy grass between the two turned and uncovered graves, to lie between them as she had done in bed.

Now the world was wrong; turned on its head.

Nothing would ever be the same.

They had been sacred to her, and now they were gone she kept them so: she had a picture of the three of them together, Kaien with a hand around Miyako's waist and his other around her own shoulders, the two women looking at each other around his grinning face and smiling that soft smile of exasperated affection.

She kissed the glass every night before she went to bed.

It did not make her feel any better; the glass was as cold as the skin of her lovers, laid out pale and bloodless in their respite after death.


	111. Cave

Requested by le car- thank you

Renji x Tatsuki

**Cave**

They went on a school trip: Ichigo had had to explain to him what the point of one was before they went, and in all honesty he didn't really understand the point of it. So, they needed to see something to understand it? They could not see the formulas in their maths books parading down the streets, could they?

Mind you, that might be why he was failing algebra.

The caves they went to visit were dark and dank. More nervous girls were already squeaking their fear at having to walk downwards on the slick floor, smoothed to the consistency of glass by decades of feet. It was pouring down with rain, and it tricked through the rock, dripping on their heads and through the neckline of his shirt. He lingered at the back of the group until he was the last, a straggler.

He was not impressed.

About to start complaining loudly, he was silenced by her hand, reaching backwards to take his in the darkness, even though she was neither scared nor off-balance. He looked at her, but her face was half-obscured by shadows, and she was looking ahead.

Completely unaware of where he was going, his head smashed against an overhanging piece of rock.

"Son of a bitch!"

She laughed, and it rang loudly through the suppressed hush of the caves. Hopping up on a large shelf of stone, she reached on tip-toes, and kissed his forehead in the general area where a large bruise would blossom the next day.

The rest of the group were far ahead now, only vaguely recognisable as shapes in the darkness.

She took his hand again, and dragged him to catch up with the class.

He let her pull him, all thoughts of complaint gone.


	112. Colour

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Yuzu, Ryuuken and Rangiku

**Pain**

The good Samaritans that they were, having heard the younger Ishida's sob story after having got very drunk (not his fault, he would later claim, which might be true, since how was he to know that they had all been routinely spiking his drinks?) and being drawn on the subject of his father, they decided to try and forge a bridge between father and son.

And that was why Yuzu Kurosaki and Rangiku Matsumoto found themselves outside the office of the Karakura General Hospital's director.

They burst in, despite the sign on the door marked 'Do Not Disturb'.

"We're going to make you happy, Ryuuken Ishida!"

"We are going to reunite you with your estranged son!"

The director looked across at them, at the young girl and over-endowed woman, the smaller of which, he was sure, was one of the spawn of Isshin Kurosaki.

There was a pain in his head.

They did not stop smiling even as he pressed the security button, and as they were lead out of the room, they pushed into his hands a large wrapped present. He sighed at the sight of the ribbon and scuffed paper and when, three minutes later, his son burst into the room, gasping apologies with his hair is disarray, he could think of nothing better to do than press it into his hands and sweep out, ignoring what he was saying entirely.

Uryuu had no idea why his father had given him a framed picture. No idea that his father had even had a picture of the two of them, himself as a small infant, face red and scrunched up in sleep, a younger looking Ryuuken staring down at him with a look of introspective almost-panic.

He held it against his chest.

He felt a little better.


	113. Pain

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Yuzu, Ryuuken and Rangiku

**Pain**

The good Samaritans that they were, having heard the younger Ishida's sob story after having got very drunk (not his fault, he would later claim, which might be true, since how was he to know that they had all been routinely spiking his drinks?) and being drawn on the subject of his father, they decided to try and forge a bridge between father and son.

And that was why Yuzu Kurosaki and Rangiku Matsumoto found themselves outside the office of the Karakura General Hospital's director.

They burst in, despite the sign on the door marked 'Do Not Disturb'.

"We're going to make you happy, Ryuuken Ishida!"

"We are going to reunite you with your estranged son!"

The director looked across at them, at the young girl and over-endowed woman, the smaller of which, he was sure, was one of the spawn of Isshin Kurosaki.

There was a pain in his head.

They did not stop smiling even as he pressed the security button, and as they were lead out of the room, they pushed into his hands a large wrapped present. He sighed at the sight of the ribbon and scuffed paper and when, three minutes later, his son burst into the room, gasping apologies with his hair is disarray, he could think of nothing better to do than press it into his hands and sweep out, ignoring what he was saying entirely.

Uryuu had no idea why his father had given him a framed picture. No idea that his father had even had a picture of the two of them, himself as a small infant, face red and scrunched up in sleep, a younger looking Ryuuken staring down at him with a look of introspective almost-panic.

He held it against his chest.

He felt a little better.


	114. Build

Requested by le car- thank you

Starrk and Lilynette

**Build**

It had built up over the years, his intense loneliness, like the creeping shadows that come in the twilight, growing thicker and darker with the passing moments. He had waited for a light, to break them up, but none had been forthcoming.

So he had to make one of his own, and make one his did.

Now his little light was golden; she was loud and abrasive and incredibly annoying, but she was someone always there, someone whose warmth he could feel as they slept at night and someone whose voice he could hear outside of his own mind. She was rude and had no regard for him, but he did not care.

He loved her, as much as one can love an extension of oneself.

And for that, he could forgive every flaw.


	115. Rare

Yumichika x Hisagi

**Rare**

"Will you pass me that?"

"Can we do this tomorrow?"

"Will you buy me that?"

"Should we do that?"

"Would you give me that?"

"Will you just do this for me?"

"Do I look good in this?"

"Can you just…"

"Will you just…"

Hisagi sighed loudly and passed Yumichika the latest object.

Yumichika sparkled up at him from his position, cross-legged on the floor, and Hisagi rubbed his tired eyes and found himself smiling. Yumichika returned the smile, and pulled him down into a kiss.

"You are a rarity amongst men."


	116. Care

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Grimmjow and Yuzu

**Care**

Confined to the Kurosaki household for supervision whilst his fate was decided was almost as gruesome as… well, he couldn't actually think of anything more horrific than the punishment he was suffering right now. The dark-haired girl was as bitchy as Tousen on a bad day, and their father was a fucking _idiot. _Kurosaki himself, the bastard, spent most of his time out of the house, away from him, and he was left, powers stripped from him, under the supervision of the third child.

_(shudder)_

Who was, in her own way, as terrifying as Aizen. She was just _that_ fucking creepy.

"Grimmjow-san, you shouldn't feel bitter."

"The hell are you talking about?"

Yuzu, her back to him, smiled at the baking tray she had in her hands.

"It is not good for you, you know."

"What the fuck do you care?"

She pulled a spatula out of a drawer. He frowned as she still did not answer.

"Hey, girl!"

"You need to let go of everything that makes you so angry, or else you will never be happy. And I care, because I want you to be happy."

Yuzu turned, and offered him a cookie from the pile on the plate that she had just placed them onto, and he suppressed a growl. This kid was far too young to be patronising him.

He took a biscuit anyway though, for spite.


	117. Sour

Requested by le car- thank you

Kensei x Mashiro

**Sour**

It left a sour taste in his mouth every time.

It didn't matter how the secrecy of her stares made him burn; how beautiful the line of her body was in the half-light shining in from the corridor. It made no difference the way her sleep-drawn eyes looked at him in the morning, full of lust and affection, the way she would lazily wrap her legs around his waist and let him pull her up. He could ignore the warmth of her skin against his, the way that, when he sat naked on the edge of bed, she would creep up behind him, throw her hands around his shoulders and kiss the smooth circle of his top vertebrae.

Fuck all that.

Her constant annoying laugh, her childish pranks, the way she pulled faces at him behind his back.

Every time she spiked his nerve, he felt bile rising in his throat at the knowledge that, as soon as the night would come and the darkness would creep into his bones, he would find himself stalking down the corridor between their quarters, and pushing open her door.

Unlocked, ready for him.

She would be on her bed, already undressed, smiling in that way that made him want to choke her and take her all in one movement.

He hated it.

He hated more, the fact that he didn't.


	118. Comfortable

Requested by le car- thank you

Shuuhei x Soi Fon

**Comfortable**

When pressed to think about it, he could not ever name a time when she was perfectly comfortable around him. She was always tense, always pointed; a creature of sharp edges and unapproachable disinterest. It irked him at first, when they were there, the two of them alone.

Naked in bed, she would turn her back to him, curling her knees up to her chest. He would try and touch her bare, warm skin, but she would flinch; after a while he lost any anticipation of reciprocation, but still tried.

Ikkaku laughed, when he tried to explain, and Renji sucked on the neck of his bottle of beer.

"Man, I ain't ever seen that Captain unclench. I'm surprised she even stays the fucking night! Not exactly the warm, is she?"

He blinked, and he smiled.

"Thanks for the drink, guys. I've gotta go."

He almost ran out of there, flash-stepping along rooftops until he came to the Second Division, where he knew she would be.

She looked at him blankly until he grabbed hold of his shoulders and pressed her against his chest. He was a fool, he realised- all this time he had thought that she had been uncomfortable with him; but in reality, the fact that she even lay with him betrayed that she trusted him. He felt her hands fist into the fabric of his uniform, and he sighed gladly. Any small act of reciprocation was a sign; it made him happy.

As she reached up and kissed him, eyes averted and blushing, he thought his smile might split his face in half.


	119. Tuning

Requested by RoseJustice- thank you

Chad

**Tuning**

Chad sat as he tuned his guitar, and reflected.

The world was a strange place indeed.

He played chords up and down, up and down, and stared down at the fret board, his eyes calm and his face blank.

He had seen so much, and had gone so far- he had pushed himself, and pushed himself even harder, and without any mark of effort Ichigo had far outstripped him in every way.

His fingers, hardened from play and labour, skimmed the strings.

But he felt no resentment: he had never wanted to be the hero, after all. Just the one on the sidelines, the supporting staff. He had never felt more contentment than when he could watch the world fly past him, and those he love stand happy and free.

Discordant music echoed around him.

He sighed, and put down his tuned guitar, standing up to stretch his immense height towards the sky.

Life was good.


	120. Cricket

Ichigo and Renji

**Cricket**

"Renji, you know you said you wanted to learn loads about this world?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I don't know anything about cricket."

"So, what are we doing?"

"We're hitting a ball back and forth across a field."

"Oh. Isn't that what cricket is?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

A pause.

"This is pretty stupid, right?"

A second silence.

"Yeah."


	121. Crunch

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Shuuhei x Ichigo

**Crunch **

He heard the crunch of gravel outside his office window, and smiled to himself as he pushed his hair off his forehead. The heat was oppressive, his body suddenly home to small pools of sweat that gathered in cloying pools on his body- in the hollow of his collarbones, behind his knees, inbetween his legs. It was this kind of weather that made him curse whichever shinigami that had decided that their uniforms would look best in thick, heavy, black material.

There was only one person who walked along the gravel that ran the length of the building in a narrow passageway between their exterior wall and that of the next division along. It was not wide enough for a man to walk through with ease, having to turn slightly to his side and walk at a strange angle. Most - sensible - people just used the front door, which was always the more sensible option for any visit.

Hence, he knew exactly who it would be, because there was only one idiot who crept down there to prop his elbows on the ground-floor windowsill, and glare in at the fervently working Lieutenant.

"Oi, what are you doing, still working?"

Shuuhei's smile, at the abrasive voice that cut through the heat, did not fade.

"It has to be finished."

"It's too hot for work. Come on, they're all expecting you."

Hisagi shook his head, flicking a balled up piece of paper at Ichigo's head, stuck through the window. Unsmiling, but with a exasperated huff that was not unkind, he withdrew, and crunched away again. Shuuhei rested his head on the desk for a moment, before sitting up, and continuing to work. He had twice as much to do as any other shinigami at the moment (except, he reminded himself, Izuru- at least Hinamori had been excused from duty) and although he did not begrudge it, it did not mean that he could ignore it. He half-listened to Ichigo's footsteps, until they were out of sight.

That was the morning.

A few hours after lunch, that crunch could be heard again as Ichigo came back, bearing his lovely frown and, unfortunately, no food to ease the grumbles coming from his stomach.

"You want food? Leave your desk."

Shuuhei shook his head, Ichigo rolled his eyes, and to the Lieutenants relief, a Fourth division shinigami arrived to fix the air conditioning. The sweltering heat subsided a little, and he shut the window, to cool the room down.

There there was a knock on the glass, waking him up. Paper stuck to his face, his eyes fogged with sleep, and Ichigo's face pressed up against the window. The air was cold, but pleasantly so, although the cooled sweat on his skin was making him feel a little clammy. Dark outside- he did not remember when he had fallen asleep, but he knew it had been light when he had. He opened the window, and Ichigo hoisted himself through.

"It's like a freezer in here."

Shuuhei rubbed his eyes.

"Has everyone gone home?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes again, insolent, affectionate.

"It's your _birthday_, you idiot. No one is going anywhere until you come out with us for a drink."

He smiled, because although his work still was not finished he could tell from the numbered pages that he had made more than a good dint in it. Work was over, and now was time for the real day to begin- even though it was nearly over.

"Oh yeah, and happy birthday."

Ichigo pressed a kiss to his mouth, with closed lips and the rough taste of sake (even though he was underage! his mind protested, only to be ignored). Shuuhei felt dizzy with happiness.

"Come on. You are far too many drinks behind to ever catch up, but half of the seireitei wants to buy you a drink, so hurry up, yeah?"

Shuuhei did not let go of the substitute's arm, resting his tired face in the crook of Ichigo's neck.

"In a bit."

"You said that _hours_ ago."

A hand slipped between the fabric of his uniform, and Ichigo let out an involuntary gasp. The room may have been cold, but the breath on his neck was as hot as the afternoon had been. Murmured whispers in the shell of his ear made him sigh; the group waiting for them was forgotten.

"I thought you were tired?"

Shuuhei laughed, quietly.

Needless to say, they were even later than they should have been, but by that point everyone had had too many drinks to notice their rumpled uniforms and flushed faces.


	122. Payment

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you. I love this pairing. You should all go and read Dracoqueen22's collection, 'Seireitei Monogatari'. It puts me to shame.

Byakuya x Ichigo

**Payment**

His loneliness, for all of those years, had been bitter and wearisome, but it was payment, he knew, for everything he had done wrong in his life. Every sin committed in his name; every time he had done wrong by the world and those who lived within his own. There were too many mistakes for him to care to remember: from allowing someone else to be the one to save his sister, to not noticing that his wife was fading in time to save her- too many, too many.

And he had taken the brute of the grief on his own shoulders as a punishment, and all of his actions carried the nature of self-flagellation as just another part of that. He pushed those who should have eased his pain away- after all, was that not what he deserved?

But then Ichigo Kurosaki had burst into his life in a maddening haze of distemperate illogicalities and argumentative arrogance, and had shaken everything up. For the first time in such a long time, heat permeated the coldness of his exterior, the coldness which he had tried to believe was all that was left inside of himself. He should have guessed, from the beginning, that Ichigo was going to prove every lie false- that was simply what he did. He saved, and he glared, and he forged the truth.

The bars of the cage shattered.

The birds flew free.

Ichigo was abrasive, but he cared. His mouth always accommodated his own; his body was always ready and willing. The feeling of the boy's fingers twisting in his hair made him want to scream, the weight of the legs wrapped around his waist made him feel painfully, illogically free. Staring at him in the middle of the night, grey moonlight making him look almost ghostly, Byakuya was struck with a strange ache, every time.

He had suffered, but he deserved his pain.

Ichigo was wonderful, and a while ago he never would have believed that he _should_ have him.

But then, maybe, this was a payment for something he had done right.

After all, no one could have made that many mistakes, could they?


	123. Crashed

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Byakuya x Gin

**Crashed**

They were a silent partnership; neither spoke in the darkness.

They felt their way by touch and by memory, cool hands eliciting cool responses that only thawed for the briefest of moments, as one would throw his head back to reveal the line of his bare throat in a silent supplication.

No utterance in the darkness as the second laid cold lips against the taut muscle of that extended neck. They never said a word to each other when the night drew around and found them together again: what use would they be, when finger-tips left patterns of bruises and their faces never smiled truely, always refused to ever extend beyond one stoic expression, one pseudo-friendly, sinister smirk.

But although the words were not there, the reliance was. Control was kept up at all times, and no sign of anything was ever given; no quarter drawn. One made sure never to look at the other; the second was always certain to never let the leer of his constant smile change at all when he stared around the room and he felt the brushes of languid but forceful touches against the inside of his thighs.

Always, the perfect masks.

And though, in the darkness, there was only ever the two of them, both felt silently crushed by the presence of those that they could not escape; the memory of a woman, the threat of a man. They pressed together more firmly, as if to drive the demons out, although both knew that neither could, and that neither would ever, really, have the resolve to try.

They said nothing even in the climax: affection was not, and never had been, a part of this secret debacle.

They kissed deep, they fucked hard, they stayed effortlessly silent.

When they separated their faces remained the same, their lives still ripped apart. This was not gentle, and this was not healing. It was something far more feral than either of those things, and as such was regarded with importance, but not substance. No meaning, only motion.

On the field of battle, both made sure not to meet each others eyes, just as they had once made sure never to look at each other in the stoic hush of the Captain's meetings, or in the heavy heat of the bed.

One kept his expression indifferent, the second kept his grin in focus.

They said nothing.

Inside, they crashed, as they had been crashing for innumerable years.


	124. Fake

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Gin x Rangiku

**Fake**

He hurt her often, he knew, but try as she might, she forgave him anyway, and turned those pretty eyes back on him with all the forgiveness of a loving saint. But all weights took their toll, and all burdens eventually bent the backs of those who bore them: there was something not quite right about her, not all of the time- sometimes, now, there was something in her face that told him that, should he ask her to come with him and desert the Soul Society, although she might once have said yes, she no longer would.

She needed to get better at faking smiles, because as far as he was concerned, she was giving herself away.

And he loved her all the more for it, for being able to hate him at the same time as she opened herself to him. She spread her legs, and even when she was telling him that she loved him he knew as well as she that she was also wondering when, along the way, a part of herself had started to want him as far away from her as possible. And yet, she burned still, now, and as he pressed his cool lips to the palms of her hands he was almost sure, at times, that she would burn him, almost sure that she would hurt him.

It took until the art of their deceit came to light to realise that he was right.

He had known all along, that when it would come down to the bite of the blade, that her allegiance would not lie with him. She loved him, he would never deny that, but sometimes love must take a back seat to things that mattered more- after all, was that not why he was going with Aizen, rather than staying with her? Perhaps once she would not have been so willing to raise Haineko to him, but there was something hard in her now.

And he was not surprised.

That sweet, but at times so obviously faked, smile had given her away- she had not had enough practise.

He should know.

He'd perfected his, after all.


	125. Going

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Hisagi x Soi Fon

**Going**

He watched her, always getting further away from him in the startlingly fast pace of a well practised run. He felt sometimes that he could run forever, and when he would look up, she woudl only ever be further away, a lone figure on the horizon that he would never be able to touch, would never be able to find. _Going. _She was immeasurably better than he had ever thought to have; perfect in every way that he understood but could not find in any other woman. She was wonderfully strong, terrifyingly beautiful, hopelessly distant, and, he was always painfully aware, never to be his to own, because there was just so much of herself that she held back. _Going. _But he loved her so, and pressed himself to her as if he would never let her go, even as he felt her slipping through his fingers like dust. _Going. _And still, he strived to touch her.

_But never really gone._

And then, on one day that was in all other regards completely inconsequential, she reached back.

_Returning._

In that moment, the dust moved back up through his still fingers to gather in his palms; the figure on the horizon turned to him and raised a hand in a wave, as if to welcome him closer. Her face without a smile, her eyes without warmth, but her hand always there, ready to pull him up with her, to run by her side, into that far off place to which she so often stared.

_Home._


	126. Fight

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Renji

I fail at humour.

**Fight**

It was, he realised, futile, to try and fight the spell check.

Those red squiggly lines taunted him- why, he wondered, did the Gotei ever decided to trial run these computer things in _his_ division? Why, when Hisagi wanted them so, or when Kira could have typed away at them with easy proficiency? Why not curse one of them with this unreliable and frustrating thing called 'Microsoft'?

Why to him? What higher providence had deemed it thus? Might as well have given them to the Eleventh, for all the use he could make of them.

"No! That word is spelt right! I know it is!"

He glared at the screen, and ignored the red, which he knew was completely wrong, even though it was programmed in accordance with the dictionary and was, therefore, a lot more likely to be correct than Renji himself. However, when green appeared he was forced to halt his stumbling, torturous report yet again.

'_Sentence Fragment'?_

What the hell did that mean?

Three days later, when the Fourth division arrived to collect the computer, they did not find it on the Lieutenant's desk. Neither had it been delegated to any of the other members of the division which, from experience, they had sort of anticipated. With a search, they eventually discovered it under a layer of refuse in a rubbish bin at the back of the building, with a smashed screen, as if a fist had punched right through it.

The Fourth division shinigami sighed, and hoisted it up.

At least it was better off than the one employed to Captain Zaraki.

They still hadn't found all of that keyboard.


	127. Waking

Requested by Gearr- thank you

Kusaka and Toushiro

_Kusaka, from the film Bleach: The DiamondDust Rebellion_

**Waking**

He woke in the night to the sound of tapping at his door, light and quick. He sat up, rubbing his eyes but not unduly surprised by the intrusion, and slid out into the cold night air. Entirely as he expected, by the time he got to the door there was no one there, just the faint echo of footsteps.

He rolled his eyes into the darkness: he did this every night.

He pulled his Academy uniform on, because it was the closest thing to hand, and padded down the corridor towards the training halls. There was something to say for being predictable: at least he didn't have to wander around for hours if he wanted to find his friend.

"Hitsugaya, it's too late to be doing this."

Toushiro only grinned, a mischevious glint in his eyes that Kusaka had never seen when it was anyone other than the two of them. He sighed, knowing that there was no way to discourage him now. Drawing his zanpakuto, he reflected that he had accepted that this was going to happen as soon as the knocking on his door and woken him.

They fought for hours, neither besting the other, until they slumped to the floor, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. They did this more often than they cared to admit, and on most occasions neither of them would admit who had grabbed victory. Neither intended to, but both fell asleep on the floor, eyes drifting shut as they sat propped up next to each other against the wall. The fine pink tendrils of dawn were creeping across the sky: it had been a night well spent.

Unfortunately, when a teacher walked in the next morning, they were both given detention for being out of their rooms during the night, and for sneaking into the training facilities and fighting without supervision.

Toushiro grinned at him from across the detention hall, and Kusaka sighed as a ball of paper landed on his desk, directed by a flush of spiritual pressure.

"Tonight?"

He glanced at the teacher, who was involved in paperwork, and nodded across the room. He hated the detention, but it _had_ been totally worth the trouble.

It always was.


	128. Tired

Requested by rainy-lullaby- thank you. And yes, you can have them both. Please, do keep on requesting.

Lilynette x Tesla

**Tired**

"Lilynette, I'm too tired."

"No you're not, that's just the sugar talking."

Tesla sighed, and hung his head against his chest.

"But I'm too _tired_."

She rolled her eyes at him, clicking her tongue.

"I knew I shouldn't have given you all of those sweets."

He lifted his head back up with the weary lethargy of someone who has run a marathon, and then taken a three minute break, and then run a second one with a three-ton rock strapped to their back.

"But I liked them."

He smiled at her in a way that made her huff of exasperation turn into an unwilling smile.

"Are you gonna be too tired to do anything else?"

He looked up at her.

"What do you mean?"

She smirked, and slowly started to undress.

His eyes widened.

"I guess I'm not _that _tired."


	129. Unusual

Requested by rainy-lullaby- thank you

Nel x Ulquiorra

**Unusual**

There was something slightly off about the fourth Espada, although it took everyone a while to realise just what it was. His walk was just a little bit quicker, his elegant glide a little less so than normal. His eyes were stretched wider, so the whites of them looked all the more startling against his pupils, and his face was stretched taut, like he was thinking too hard.

It was Aizen, in the end, who put his finger on it, clearing contemplating it as, for the first time, the fourth Espada was late to a meeting.

"There is something unusual about our Ulquiorra's recent behaviour, isn't there?"

A murmur of assent, a few nods.

"It looks like he has been taking too much of a stimulant."

From her place around the table, Nel's fists tightened. So _that_ was it. He was the culprit. She kept her face impassive as Ulquiorra entered, and the meeting passed. She said little, but then she rarely contributed anyway, and as soon as she could she slipped quickly back to her rooms, where she laid her traps, and prepared to wait.

Hours passed, and just as she was beginning to give up, she felt the line tug, and stepped into the next room.

Ulquiorra appeared to be trapped in a tangle of wires made from something so incredibly insubstantial that they had been invisible, almost like spider webs or, she thought in her head, like very fine hair. He looked at her from where he was snared, his face revealing no emotions.

There was a pause, and then she smirked.

"Well, now I see who has been stealing my coffee."

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and in an act of incredible agility and speed he shed the hairs as if they had never been an issue. Which, she suspected, they hadn't been.

She stalked up to him, grabbing the glass jar of instant coffee that she had bought the last time that she had snuck out to the human world. She hit him in the chest with it, and met his gaze.

There was a twist to his lips for just a moment, before they smoothed out again.

"It is forbidden to bring products back from the human world."

"Doesn't stop you drinking it, does it?"

He glanced down at the jar, pressed against him so hard that, had he been made of weaker stuff, it would have left a large bruise. He said nothing, but she doubted that it was because he had no response to give- rather, that he did not feel the need to explain himself to her.

She tossed her hair, and kissed him.

He tasted of coffee, and it made her smile.

"You know that if you asked, I would have just given you some? Why bother stealing it?"

She supposed, in his own twisted way, that stealing it was half the fun. And although it had been a subject of great debate whether or not the Fourth even knew what fun was, she knew for a fact that he did.

The rope-burns on her wrists were a testament to that.


	130. Dedication

Requested by ichigos future wife- thank you

Isshin and Ichigo

**Dedication**

Ichigo walked in through the front door to be met with blissful, deadly silence. He frowned. Something was wrong. His house was never this quiet.

He threw his bag in the corner and moved stealthily through the doorway and down the hall, through to the-

"Surprise!"

Ichigo's expression did not flicker at the sight of the streamers hanging across the kitchen ceiling, Yuzu standing by the window holding a plate on which stood a large strawberry cake, and his father capering with a large red hat on his head.

A hat, Ichigo was quick to notice, that was shaped like a strawberry.

"Ichigo! It's the seventh of July!"

Staring around, he realised that _everything_ in the room was red, apart from the ice-cream, which was pink, but that was close enough to make him worry. Both Yuzu and his father were dressed in red, and there were bowls of strawberries everywhere.

"Yeah, so? It's also a Wednesday."

The only mark of sanity in the room was Karin, who sat at the kitchen table with one of those cursed fruits in her hand, swinging it back and forth by the stalk and looking entirely bored. Ichigo could feel a headache coming on.

"It's National Strawberry Sundae Day!"

Oh, god.

"And we're dedicating it to you!"

The next sound any of them heard was the front door slamming shut behind him. Isshin pouted as Yuzu took a seat next to her sister and calmly began to slice the cake, offering Karin a piece.

"I told you, Dad."


	131. Before

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you, and I'm sorry you had to wait for these

Hanatarou x Orihime

**Before**

Before every rainstorm there were clouds, and before every smile there was a frown. That was what Orihime had to remember whenever Hanatarou was staring blankly at the wall, forehead creased with tiredness. She knew what it felt like not to want to smile, too, but she always wanted to see Hanatarou's face light up, like it did whenever he was happy.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, and turned to her. His eyes were red, and he sat with the heavy-limbed stance of someone who was utterly exhausted.

"Hard day?"

He nodded again, and she slid onto the bed. He leant against her, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing feather-light kisses against his ears and neck until he leant his head back, upside down and staring at her.

She smiled, and kissed his mouth until she felt it curl up into a smile to match her own.

Clouds before rain, frowns before smiles.

The look in his eyes was worth it.


	132. Rugby

Renji, Ichigo, Ikkaku, Toushiro, Yumichika, Ishida and Chad

I love being English.

**Rugby**

"Renji tackles Ichigo to the ground and oh! I can almost feel the testosterone build up."

Ichigo pulled himself up from the mud, scowling at the testosterone.

"Oi, Ishida, try joining in instead of commentating!"

"Oh, no. I'm not an idiot. It think Captain Hitsugaya and I will sit out of this one."

The young Captain looked up from where he was reading and studiously trying to ignore the idiocy around him.

"What does that mean? Are you implying I'm not able to play rugby?"

"Ah, no I ju-"

"Because my height puts me at no disadvantage!"

"I was not saying that at all."

Pride wounded, Toushiro dragged himself to his feet with his characteristic disinterest, before moving quicker than any of them could track to tackle Ikkaku around the waist and knock him to the ground. Ikkaku, in his defence, spluttered, but retained the sense of mind only to protest, rather than hit him, which would probably have ended very badly for everyone involved.

"Hey, Captain!"

Toushiro pulled himself up and shook himself out.

"See!"

"Now we've got uneven teams."

"It's not like Yumichika's doing much."

"Hey! My beauty is inspirational to the team!"

"Yeah, yeah… Chad! Come play!"

Chad levered himself up from the sidelines, and Ichigo blinked.

"Ah, hell, I'm out."

Toushiro was left on a muddy field, with Chad bearing down on him, and the sudden certainty that this might not have been a good idea.


	133. Shallow

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you

Ichigo x Nemu

**Shallow**

There were many things going on beneath the surface. Ripples, spreading out, betraying a whole host of emotions and feelings that were hidden away beneath the exterior, beneath the expressionless face and voice that gave nothing away. Some people that she had met were shallow, two-dimensional, but he made no sense to her, because there was too much depth to him. So much depth, in fact, that some days it appeared that he was a water so shallow that he reflected the sky almost perfectly. She still was not sure how he managed to do that.

She blinked, and watched his sleeping back.

So much beneath his surface.

She wanted to ask him, although she knew that it had never been intended for her to have a streak of curiosity within her. Curiosity meant free thought, and Mayuri-sama had never wanted that in a serving creation. Luckily, he had wanted her to be intelligent and intuitive, so she realised soon enough to keep that habit to herself, or else face the punishment of being dismembered and re-modelled: Nemu 2.0, if you will. That was what she was there for, after all, was it not?

Ichigo, though, did not like it when she did exactly what he told her to do, although she was always efficient and thought that that was what would make him happy. He would roll his eyes at her though, and tell her not to take him so literally, and why didn't she do something for herself once in a while?

She didn't understand. She didn't even know how to begin to understand, but as he sighed in his sleep she lay down on the bed next to him, and laid one cool hand on his waist. His skin was hot, burning, and she pressed her front to the curve of his spine, hoping that he would warm her up, from the core outwards.

She had so many things that she wanted to ask him.

She closed her eyes, not realising that she was smiling.

It could wait until morning.


	134. Incomprehensible

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you

Ichigo x Rangiku

**Incomprehensible**

She was incomprehensible in her madness, incomprehensible to him. He thought, and her Captain agreed, that most of it was complete rubbish, and the rest made him blush at the sound of her profanities. She would wink at him then, and tug her shirt down a little further, to make him blush even deeper at the line of lace at the top of her bra. Blue today, she would tell him with a suggestive smirk, and the underwear matched.

"I hate you," he would mumble, and she would only smile back.

"Ichigo, you're so lovely," and then she would start her ramble again.

He would watch her mouth, lips pink and soft, forming each word and licking them with the tip of a moist, red tongue. It made him think of her mouth elsewhere, and then he would shudder a little in pleasant thought, and let his mind stray away from the present and back to the night before, when she had shown him whichever matching underwear set she had been wearing (and teasing him, and half the Seireitei, with) that day.

He still would not know what she was talking about, but he didn't really mind that, because the sound of her voice was sweet (although loud), and he could close his eyes, and let it make him smile.

He would still glare though, when she would unwaveringly run her fingers down his arm and disarmingly ask him what he was thinking about.

Some habits were just hard to get rid of, and there was no point in swelling her ego any more.


	135. Introduction

Requested by Snowkid- thank you for choosing Jiraiya, because I adore him

Jiraiya, implied Nanao x Shunsui

_Jiraiya, Toad-Sage and one of the Legendary Sannin, from 'Naruto'_

Too long, too long, too long! I think I said 'screw a hundred words' a long time ago.

**Introduction**

Nanao liked this bar, because it was out of the way and had been unofficially labelled a 'Lieutenant' bar somewhere along the way. Unfortunately, today was the day that her Captain had decided to follow her, (she was sure that if he put as much effort into his work as he did into putting his nose into her life, her job would be a lot easier) and now was sat on the other side of the bar, as far away from her as possible, forbidden on pain of death from talking to her.

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she was about to turn to yell at her Captain before realising, with a start, that it wasn't him.

The man was smiling widely at her, and although his hair was pure white he did not look all that old. In fact, he was actually quite good-looking, and he waved a frog-shaped purse at her.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She nodded, and smiled, although she had not meant to do either. There was something a little bit disarming about him: that, and the fact that perhaps she had had one drink more than she would normally allow herself.

"Cute purse."

He looked at it as if he had only just seen it, and grinned to himself, as if he was laughing at a private joke that she did not understand.

"I'm Jiraiya."

She nodded, and took a sip from the drink he had bought her, and did not offer her own name in return. He was of a similar build to her Captain, the build that, although she would never admit it to him, she found very attractive: tall, broad, strong armed. She swallowed as he rolled his sleeves up, and caught sight of tan skin, the line of well developed muscle, and a littering of scars. She shook her head: now she was _sure_ she had had too much to drink.

He was smiling down at her, eyes bright, and she began to lean in a little, startled back when a heavy hand fell on her shoulder.

"Nanao-chan, are you going to introduce us?"

Shunsui was behind her, smiling as he normally did but leaning over her a little protectively.

"Nanao, is that your name? It's lovely."

She blushed.

"Thank you."

Shunsui's fingers tightened on her shoulder, and she could feel him press against her back. She swallowed again, harder this time, at the sudden warmth between them.

"Oh, this is my Captain. Jiraiya, Kyouraku."

He smiled easily at her, ignoring Shunsui.

"Oh, so are you a shinigami, then?"

She nodded, smiling.

"I'm Lieutenant of the Eighth division."

"Impressive. I'm a humble writer, myself."

She looked suitably impressed.

"Anything I might have heard of?"

"Nothing that would suit your impeccable tastes, I'm sure. I've not been here long, you know. Do you think you could show me around, some time?"

"I'm afraid I keep her rather busy. I'm not too good at deadlines, am I, Nanao-chan? You have to lean over my shoulder and make sure I get _everything_ done."

She felt suddenly like she was unimportant to the conversation, in the way that a woman can when she is being overlooked in favour of argument. The two men were looking at each other with that frighteningly false look of ambivalent friendship that came when they very much disliked each other. Testosterone pricked her skin, and she rolled her eyes and downed her drink, slipping out of her Captain's hold and leaving them behind. She had no time for manly squabbles, and nodded to Rangiku as they passed in the doorway, who leant in to talk to her with a frown.

"Why's your Captain here? And _who_ is he talking to?"

Nanao shrugged.

"Go ask him yourself. And he's quick to buy drinks."

She rolled her eyes again as the other woman exposed a little more cleavage, practised an already perfect smile, and sauntered into the smoky room. Nanao herself shuddered against the cold outside, and slipped away into the night. She was almost back to her rooms in the Eighth division before she felt the pressure of her Captain behind her: he had moved too quickly for her to notice until he was nearly touching her.

She did not turn.

"If you are this eager to run back to the division, there is paperwork still on your desk, you know."

There was a rumble of laughter from behind her, a warm sound that was amused, not at all offended, and so entirely masculine that it sent a dart of pleasure through her abdomen. She could hear him walking behind her, but knew she only could because he was letting her.

"Nanao-chan, if I'd have known you were going to run away from him, I never would have worried."

"I was running away from the two of you, you know."

His voice was suddenly serious as she reached her door.

"You run too much, do you know that?"

She did turn then, to look up at his face, half-shrouded by shadow. There was something unsaid in those words, something that made her want to do exactly what he was talking about: run away and run towards him at the same time. He was closing the gap between them until he was uncomfortably close, looking down at her. He leant closer, and for just a moment she was sure he was going to kiss her. Her abdomen tightened again, in pleasure at the thought, as a stray strand of his hair brushed her cheek.

Her eyes felt heavy lidded, hypnotised.

Then he patted her cheek and took a step back, so the shadow left his face and he was just her smiling Captain once more. That tightness had not left her though, and as he called his goodbye she watched him leave, and wished that, more than anything, she had the nerve to call him back.


	136. Surprise

Matsumoto x Toushiro

**Surprise**

She regarded him, slowly, with an eye of well-practised appreciation.

He was taller than her now, and who would have guessed that he would grow into a tall, built, masculine man over the hundreds of years? She knew that she had expected him to remain as cute as he had been for aeons longer than this, but although his superior look was still the same, that glint of determination still in his eyes, there was something more substantial about him now. He would turn to her with that half-smile on his lips when he was trying hard not to laugh, and she got the distinct impression that he was laughing at her surprise.

She had never thought that she would end up kissing him, and actually being upset when he just stood there in shock afterwards as she slowly turned red and began to stammer. Her? Stammer? Unheard of, surely...

She had certainly never imagined, even in her wildest dreams, that he would swallow, grab her wrist as she was running away, and kiss her back.


	137. Altruism

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Toushiro x Momo, and hints of one-sided Momo x Aizen

_I am a man cut from the know  
__Rarely do friends come and then go  
__She was a girl, soft but estranged  
__We were the two, our lives rearranged  
_Red Hot Chili Peppers

**Altruism**

He was sure that he had spent all of his life knowing entirely what was going on and how to solve the problems he faced: only on a few occasions, when he was young, had he ever needed direction (and a little part of him was still angry that, on one of those times, it had been Matsumoto. Who would have known that such a useless shinigami would be the one to tell him he was near-killing his grandmother with his spiritual pressure?) He was used to knowing; not understanding left him on very unsure footing.

That was why he was at such a loss when faced with the girl in front of him, who sat with her hands folded in her lap demurely but stared into space with a look of such intense focus that it was a little scary. There was no reasonable way to make her feel better, no way to snap it out of her. People had tried; kind words, hard words, gentle touches, shocking slaps across the face. She still had not come to her senses.

It was like breaking in an animal- some days she was wild with anger, beating at him with fists and lashing with her tongue. Others she curled up, foetal-like, and sobbed almost silently.

"Give her time," his Lieutenant told him, "She'll come around in the end."

So he did- he sat with her and talked to her as she became more responsive, and sometimes when she slept, troubled and murmuring, he would hold her hand, face red-hot in a blush as he did so. He knew he had entirely selfish motives in looking after her. It wasn't for the good of her health- although that was, of course, a part of it- it was because one day, he hoped, he would be able to go and visit her, to see her open her arms to embrace him, with only _him_ on her mind, and not her former Captain.

And then he would have the courage to finally tell her everything that he had wanted to tell her since he realised what that feeling inside him was.

So until then, he could be selfish, and try and make her better, because one day he knew that he would taste her kisses, and not have to watch her crying Aizen's name in a senseless ecstacy as she slept.


	138. Moonlight

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Kuukaku x Hanatarou

**Moonlight**

She didn't like to think about it, because if she were the type to get scared about things, then she probably would be terrified right now. He was just some tiny scrap of a thing, and yet, when he sat next to her, with his hands neatly folded in his lap and his eyes down to the floor, he made her want to pet his head and protect him from every nasty thing in the world.

And that really wasn't the type of person that she was.

Seriously, you could ask anyone. Some people even remembered the time when she was much younger, and tied a small rodent to a firework, just to see what would happen. Her brother still told that story when he was drunk and she was far, far away.

They sat now on the veranda of her house, her slumped back with a leg up and bent, him perched demurely by her side, for all the world her polite little wift. It was pitch black: a clear night, but with no visible moon. She sort of regretted that, because his skin always looked so lovely in the silvery light of the moon, like something that should be tasted and cherished. She wasn't used to doing that, either- biting and throwing away was more her style.

He glanced up at her with his stabbed-puppy eyes, and wrinkled his nose.

She found herself smiling back at him, although as soon as she caught herself she coughed, and covered her hand with her mouth.

"Oi, assholes! Light the fuse!"

Overhead, after a pause, there came an explosion in the sky, yellows and golds and vibrant reds and verdant greens, all spilling outwards in a mass of colour. The glowing darkness above them, just for a moment, was in the shape of a flower.

He reached out an took her hand, and she stroked her thumb in circles around his skin.

"Thank you."

She scowled at the darkness. This really was far too sappy for her tastes- she supposed that he just inspired that in her.


	139. Crush

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Renji x Rukia (-ish)

**Crush**

He did not love her.

He pulled a face at her back as they snuck down the alleyway. He could smell the cooking meat of the street vendors at the end, and could feel the litter and grime of the Rukongai underneath his feet. She was scrawny and dirty, but as she turned to make sure he was still behind her, her smile was bright.

He tried not to smile back at her, and ended up grimacing instead.

They filched their dinner as the sun was setting, and ate it sitting on the step of the abandoned house that they were sleeping in for the moment. Hot oil spilled over their hands, and she nudged him in the ribs as he licked the grease from inbetween his fingers, rubbing them against his clothes when he was done.

Most of the time, in fact, he really didn't like her all that much.

"It's getting cold," he remarked as night settled in, and she nodded.

They slept next to each other to keep warm, covered in cardboard and tarpaulin and pieces of blankets that they picked up from around and about. She shuffled backwards until her back was against his front, her knees curled up with her arms wrapped around them.

She was very warm against his own cold skin, and despite the chilly night he was soon comfortable; her hair was against his nose, and he hesitantly rested a hand on her narrow, bony waist.

He might have a little bit of a crush.

He scowled.

But that was _totally_ it.


	140. Joke

Renji x Byakuya

**Joke**

"Byakuya?"

"Yes?"

"Were you trying to tell a joke?"

There was a long pause.

"…No?"

Renji smiled at his lover, and ruffled his carefully arranged hair.

"Don't worry, you just need a little more practise."

Byakuya turned his freezing glare upon his lieutenant.

"It is you who needs the practise, Renji. You need to learn to understand sophisticated humour."

Renji smiled, and kissed him.

"You look hot when you get all uptight."


	141. Count

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Yuzu and Momo

**Count**

Every hug counts for something, and every smile stretches the next a little further. When that nice silver-haired boy who knew Ichigo from somewhere-or-another brought the girl around, Yuzu had chatted pleasantly with her for a while, before she realised that despite her cautious little smile there was something very wrong with her. So she sat her down with gentle, undeniable force at the kitchen table as she set about preparing lunch for her three charges for the next day.

She asked her what was wrong, and the answer was like a a tidal wave.

She spoke for hours and hours, about her friends from work and the friends she had had since childhood, and her guilt and her anger and her sorrow about the man that she had loved who had left her, it seemed, in quite terrible circumstances. Yuzu nodded, and offered advice, and listened to every word as she prepared food, now for their dinner for that night. She moved them into the living room when she was done, still listening as she dusted and wiped down the coffee table and neatened the chairs.

Karin came in from practice, and Yuzu told her that her dinner was in the oven. Isshin followed soon after and received the same instruction, as well as being told to take a plate up to Ichigo so he wouldn't forget to eat.

She gave Hinamori cookies, and made her hot chocolate, leant her a warm pair of slippers and a blanket to tuck around her knees as the night drew on. And when she started to cry- gulping, hopeless, silent sobs- Yuzu held her and petted her hair and smiled, because even though she was far younger, she knew how to look after people.

She'd been doing it for as long as she could remember, after all.


	142. Sure

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Kon x Ururu

**Sure**

She was far nicer to him than other people were. Even Yuzu, who was ever so sweet, scrubbed him painfully and shoved his limbs into horrible clothes, but all Ururu ever did was pet him with anxious, uncertain fingers, even though she knew that he was a MOD soul, rather than a stuffed toy.

Perhaps it was _because _she knew that there was someone inside of the lion- someone who would care how he was treated. That touched Kon, and when he managed to take hold of Ichigo's body, he decided to take a couple of hours out from chatting up lovely women to spend some time with the little girl whose eyes were always wide and who always looked, somehow, like she was about to cry.

She smiled at him when he walked in, and knew immediately that it wasn't Ichigo. She knew his walk, she said- Ichigo would never walk the way that he did.

She still looked sad when he took her for ice-cream (hell, Ichigo's money), but her face brightened up a little when he ruffled her hair. Everything felt strange now that their positions were reversed, and he was the 'big' one, in charge- the dynamic had shifted, and those looks she gave him from through her eyelashes meant things that he had not noticed before now. To his surprise and worry, they made him want to look after her.

So he came back. Again and again, and Ichigo had to leave his body more and more frequently, and soon enough he was forgetting even the lovely mounds of Orihime's chest, his thoughts always instead on the unassuming girl, fingers in his fur or combing restlessly through her own hair in a nervous habit.

She told him he was lovely with a blush on her cheeks, her voice as monosyllabic as ever but betrayed by that flush of pink. He just grinned at her.

"Lovely enough to let me kiss you?"

He had meant it as a joke, but she hung her head and nodded it, slowly. To his terror, he felt his throat contract.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again, skin near-white and strangely fragile.

He leant in, knees bent painfully, catching sight of the hitch of her breath in her throat as he got closer.

He just managed to press his lips to hers before Ichigo barged in, pissed to hell after having to search for his body, quickly just being completely disturbed at the spectacle in front of him.

Needless to say, Ichigo banned Kon from using his body for quite some time, and expressly banned him coming anywhere near Urahara's shop whilst he was in possession of it.

So now he sat, a golden plush lion with all the working capabilities of any human being, in the lap of a girl that was staring down at him, eyes still wide and looking like they were about to cry, but just a little bit happy, at the same time, and he realised that he was sure, too, sure that right here in this warm lap was just where he should be, where no one would pull on his fur or yell at him or treat him like he was a freak.

The toy sighed, a small exhale of stuffing-air.

He supposed, though, that that was because she was just as strange as he was, anyway.


	143. School

Ichigo and Kenpachi

**School**

He had had a nightmare once about Kenpachi turning up at his school with the other shinigami, disguised (badly) as a teacher, because not even in a dream could the captain disguise himself as a fifteen year old student. It had scared him so much that he woke up in a cold sweat. The sight of Kenpachi in a suit, his eye-patch intact and Yachiru on his shoulder in a school-girl skirt, disturbed him greatly.

But when he started to think about it, Kenpachi had taught him some fundamental things that he would never have learnt at any normal school. He had taught him that no matter how much you were broken, you could always get up and get stronger, and that was a lesson he was never to forget. He taught him that no matter how bleak the outcome may appear, anything at all was possible.

He had also taught him that when a blade-wielding manic was bearing down on you, the best thing to do was_ always_ to run.

But then, he guessed that was just common sense.


	144. Recommend

Requested by Nanz77- thank you

Tatsuki, Kenpachi, Yachiru, Yumichika and Ikkaku

**Recommend**

She wasn't really sure how it had happened, but somewhere along the way someone had decided that she was definitely Eleventh Division material. She was pretty sure that she should have been offended by that, but as it stood, right now she was too bemused for righteous indignation.

She was being welcomed in by a man that she was not one hundred percent sure was sane. He appeared to be… glittering. Perhaps that was normal in the Gotei, but it sure as hell was not where she came from.

"Ah! You're Kurosaki's friend, I'm sure! Please, come in, come in!"

A heavy weight sprawled on her back and she stumbled, distracting her from the sparkles and the aura that she would soon learn was called- only behind the sparkle-man's back- as 'demonic gay charm'.

"Kid ain't strong. The hell was Ichigo thinking?"

That voice was deep and a little bit angry, and had she not been more concerned by whatever animal it was on her back, that now appeared to be- ew- chewing on her ear, she might have been scared, but as it was she was just really, really annoyed. Hadn't she been beating Ichigo up since he was a kid, and he was just a snotty-nosed brat? And now _she _was being judged too weak?

"Fuck you, old man! I'm plenty strong!"

She felt a sudden intense weight of spiritual pressure bear down upon her, and she struggled to stand. After what felt like an intensely long period of time she fell to her knees, refusing to let her head bow, still glaring at them all.

A small girl leapt off her back, to her mute surprise, and jumped through the thick pressure as if it wasn't there, landing on the shoulder of the immense Captain in front of her.

"She tastes good!"

And as if that was an adequate reasoning, the pressure stopped instantly, the fruity-looking guy still tittering his amusement in the background.

"She didn't throw up, Captain! Didn't even end up face-flat in the dirt!"

The Captain grunted, and a bald man appeared from behind him, scowling, a bottle in one hand and a plethora of scars and bandages on his bared torso.

Tatsuki was left with dusty knees and a wet neck, blinking. The newcomer offered a hand to pull her to her feet, and offered her some sake, which she drank. She managed to do it without wincing because they were all still watching her, and as if that was the final part of some strange initiation that she hadn't known that she was taking, he slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Welcome t'the Eleventh. You drink?"

She nodded, figuring that to survive this place, she might well just have to start.


	145. SOS

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

_You know that you are not alone,  
__I need you like water in my lungs  
_- Brand New

Aaroniero x Rukia

**S.O.S**

Her fingertips left messages on his skin, bruising his back as he entered her unprepared, filling her with pain and heat. Save our soul, the bruises read, if you knew how to read them, but it was a sick obsession for her, and she never wanted to let go of him. He was all that she had left of a man long dead, and she made sure not to look in his eyes, because there was a cold regard in there that did not belong to the face.

_Save me._

His skin was always had that frosted feeling of midwinter, but his touches always burned: there was no comfort in his embraces, only the certainty that he was there, and that, she knew, was not so much of a comfort at all.

They glowed in the darkness, their skin white and eerily beautiful, too bright for the shadows but that did not matter, because black and white were only concepts- how could anyone regard aesthetics as important? How could they mean anything when this man in front of her looked so much like her former love, and yet at the same time was not?

_Hold me_.

His mouth dug deep into hers as if he was trying to suffocate her, and maybe he was, for he had no way to grasp the idea of tenderness, only the lingering memories of those he had consumed, and those were confused, and he could make little sense of them. The only thing he understood was that when her nails bit his skin she wanted more, and when she closed her eyes it was because she was too immersed in what he was doing, and he no longer had to keep up the pretence of that shinigami.

She whispered the name of the face he wore as she came, and he shuddered over her, pleasure wracking through a borrowed body.

_Kiss me. _

He could be the death of her.

She thought that it might be punishment enough, for the crime of desecrating Kaien's memory.

_Kill me. _


	146. Passed

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Rangiku x Karin, and Ichigo

**Passed**

Karin was not one for trying for things that did not matter to her all that much, and that was why everyone was so surprised when she started trying to smile. It was not so noticeable at first, and in fact Ichigo probably would _never_ have noticed if Matsumoto hadn't clapped her hands together one day as they saw his sister, and exclaimed "You're getting better!"

"At what?" Ichigo had asked.

Matsumoto had blinked at him prettily.

"At smiling, of course."

Karin pulled a face, hard work vanished. Ichigo stared at her, slightly incredulous.

"I wasn't aware that she was practising. What, is there going to be a final exam in looking happy?"

Matsumoto had just laughed in response, leaving Ichigo utterly baffled and a little annoyed as she ruffled his hair. Glancing across at his sister, however, he caught sight of a very different expression; was it just him, or did Karin look a little... pleased?

This strange, indirect education came about in a very round-about sense, from observance and discretion. A lot of the time Karin did not even realise that she was watching the older woman until she would turn around and wink at her, and then she would blush furiously and storm off. This went on for several weeks, the blushes changing in depth of colour depending on the length of Matsumoto's skirt, until one day the older woman slunk up beside her, and ruffled her hair.

"Do you want to do something tonight, hmm?"

Karin turned a surprised but glowing smile onto her, and the other felt a similar one tugging at the corners of her mouth, even though she was going for breezy-indifferent. But then, she remembered, it didn't really matter how she acted, did it? Karin was going to come regardless, so she didn't really have to play the sort of games that she normally reserved for these sorts of encounters.

"Well done," Rangiku said, voice honey-sweet and just as warm, "You passed."

Karin felt her throat constrict, even though she did not want it to, so that her next words were hoarse.

"What's my reward?"

Rangiku tapped her cheek with her finger, leaning in.

"What did you have in mind?"

Karin surprised them both by moving upwards, on the balls of her feet, to press their lips together.


	147. Busk

Renji, Ichigo, Rukia and Toushiro

**Busk**

Ichigo groaned at the sight of Renji. If anything, he looked _worse_ this time around- where the hell did he get his clothes from? For the love of god, they were meant to be inconspicuous! Who was in charge of these clothes choices? The Soul Society seriously needed to get their act in gear.

"Renji, what the hell are you wearing?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It looks like you're about to pull out a guitar and start busking!"

"What's busking?"

Ichigo regretted giving him that answer when, an hour later, Rukia got in the idea, borrowed Ichigo's guitar and organised the plan of the 'Shinigami in Karakura executive financial aid scheme'- with bunny pictures, and everything.

Staring at Toushiro's face when confronted with the sound of Renji singing, Ichigo could only praise providence that at least he was not the only one with a semblance of common sense left.


	148. Humane

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Gin x Rukia

**Humane**

Gin did not play nicely with his toys.

He never had done, never would do.

He teased and he tested and he wrapped cool, white fingers around their necks until they screamed aloud in pain and pleasure, and he always made sure that the two came together, never apart, because the game just wasn't as fun otherwise. He would smile down, all at once an act of love and the ministrations of a torturer, and pressed kisses to her mouth, deep and probing, in the depth of which she could feel the bite of his teeth.

He did not know the meaning of the word kindness.

But it didn't seem to matter: her hands stretched towards him, and she did not know anymore whether she was trying to push him away or pull him closer. She liked to think the former, because it meant she had not fallen so far from grace, but whenever the warmth of his body (and it was so strangely warm, despite how cold he looked) left her skin, she ached for him, and the pain, again.

_I want your teeth in my skin._

_I want your marks on my body._

_I want you to destroy me, if that is what it takes to keep you near._

He smiled down at the fear in her eyes, and found a new understanding to the meaning of play.


	149. North

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

I talk too much shit about nature. I really should sort myself out.

Byakuya x Renji x Rukia

**North**

The North wind blew, and they shuddered in the lonely cold.

They looked to each other from across rooms, and offered shy smiles and looks full of ambiguity and something that was not quite fully heat, not yet, but something close to it.

Renji had to learn to be patient, which was something he had never been all that skilled at doing, and to control his temper which, if anything, he was even worse at. Many a tree on the outskirts of the Rukongai was destroyed in those months when they were all learning, but when he was with them he kept his mouth closed, unless an inquisitive finger or tongue requested entry.

Rukia had to remember what it was to be comfortable with them, for ever since the gap had grown between her and Renji she had never been able to breach it like she used to, and the chasm between her and her pseudo-brother had never been crossed before now. She had to teach herself, to, not to flinch away from touches, and force herself to rely on them in a way that she had not been comfortable doing since her last love was taken away from her.

Byakuya had to make sure that he did not leave his guard up when he was with them, because every time they hit his shields they themselves retreated once more, away from him. He was sure that it would take them forever to learn how to be comfortable with each other, and contrary to how it felt sometimes, they did not have forever to remember how to love.

In many ways Byakuya had the most to learn, although he kept the difficulties to himself.

But when Byakuya woke one night to the sound of Rukia's silent sobs, and he caught sight of Renji's frozen eyes from across her curled up body, clearly undecided about what to do, he had a sudden realisation. For a moment he too was stuck, before sense shook him, and he pulled her body up against his, and Renji moved closer, so she was trapped in a warm cocoon of their bodies.

She glanced up at them both, tears balanced on her eyelashes, and reached to touch their faces, a look of absolute relief on her delicate, worn face.

He was glad, in that moment, that they had kept trying.

Practise makes perfect, after all.

The South wind came now, blowing warm over their naked flesh as they lay, entwined, together.


	150. Summer

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Lisa, young Nanao, Hiyori and Kaien

**Summer**

Lisa took her young charge out for a picnic: the weather was warm and the sun shone down on the stretches of green grass that were empty- most shinigami were still on duty. She had been excused from work that day (or rather, she was ahead of her work and her Captain was snoozing in a drunken stupor, but it pretty much equated to the same thing) and she had packed up food in a manner that was far too maternal for her liking.

She was reading with Nanao when Hiyori wandered past, zanpakuto slung over her shoulder, staring up at the sky. She caught sight of the food, and flung herself down on the rug to help herself, nodding at her fellow Lieutenant but not interrupting their reading. She fell onto her back, watching the clouds again. Lisa frowned at her, but could not be bothered sending her away.

They sat a while like that, Hiyori chewing loudly and Nanao following the words with the tip of her finger.

A couple of hours later Kaien walked past, and followed Hiyori's example to throw himself down and grab some food.

"Captain Ukitake offered me the job again."

His two fellow shinigami did not look over to him, too used to this conversation to offer any sort of surprise at either the job offer or the frown on Kaien's normally pleasant face.

"Are you still adamant that you wont take it?"

He nodded, then shook his head.

"I don't know."

Captain Hirako walked past sedately after a while, hands in his sleeves and Aizen trailing behind him, with his customary smile on his face. Hiyori raised her arm straight up, extending her middle finger and flipping Shinji off. Aizen waved at them, but pushed his Captain, who was yelling expletives in Hiyori's general direction, forwards.

Lisa removed her hands from Nanao's ears as soon as they were out of earshot, and resumed reading.

Kaien sighed, and smiled.

"I guess that it doesn't really matter all that much right now, does it? I mean, it's not like we're in dire need of more seated officers."

Hiyori nodded.

"You ain't got rid of me yet, Shiba."

He laughed, and the worry left his face.

In the safety of the summer sun they sat and stared hazily into the distance, little knowing that soon their lives would be irreparably changed.


	151. Towel

Kira x Ikkaku

**Towel**

Kira stared at the towel wrapped tightly around Ikkaku's wet legs and swallowed audibly.

There was something scandalous about the way that the towel hid and yet emphasised what was underneath. The tight muscles of his legs visibly moved as he walked, and Kira watched, wide eyed, as Ikkaku reached upwards, stretching, and the towel slipped just a little lower on his hips. The ridges and definition of the musculature on his torso were criminally impressive and made Kira bite his lip, hard. His skin was smooth and damp, reflecting the light in a tanned glow, and his hands skimmed his sides tantalisingly as he tried to wipe some of the water off himself.

Ikkaku glanced around, and noticed Kira's stare.

He grinned, and dropped the towel.


	152. Conversations

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Kisuke, Shinji and Isshin

This one did not turn out the way I wanted it to at all. Grr!

**Conversations**

They met irregularly and infrequently, because of the danger of three wanted and hiding shinigami all grouping together outside of the protective fields of Urahara's shoten and buildings. They never gave any regard to their past lives, perhaps because none of them wished to remember; instead, they focused on the present, on Isshin's family and Kisuke's business and Shinji's training.

And, normally, on a load of other, unimportant crap.

"Ever tried to catch a rainbow?"

"There's no way to catch a rainbow."

"Why not?"

"Because… it's not there, is it?"

"You always did quit early, Hirako."

They drank; they always ended up drinking a lot more than they had intended. Shinji drank imported whiskey, Kisuke stuck to sake, and Isshin's drink varied on what his day had been like and what colour the sky had been that day, or some other trivial reasoning.

"You seen these camera things these people have made?"

"They're amazing!"

"Let's take a picture now!"

"We don't have one, Kurosaki."

"Oh."

Their conversations always started off with a vague sort of seriousness that quickly descended into idiocy, mainly because of Isshin's constant attempts to keep things lightweight, as if he was afraid of any depth that could shatter the pseudo-perfection of the life he had carved out here. Even after the death of the human wife that he had taken he had refused to be drawn on the matter, resorting into stupidity to change the conversations. It was a wound he kept tight to him; one that was personal, and private, if not healed.

"Grapefruits, right. They're not grapes, and they don't taste like grapes."

"So?"

"Well… err… they're deceptive, aren't they?"

"They're fruit, they can't deceive us."

"Wanna put money on that one?"

"No, Kurosaki. Not at all."

But sometimes still they would see Isshin stare into his drink with desolate eyes, or notice Shinji's hand ghosting over his face in a subconscious fear, or watch Kisuke regard the horizon with a strange thoughtfulness that spoke reams of something that they did not understand, and whoever had seen would try and turn the conversation to something that would distract them.

"Did you ever wonder if the rest of Ukitake's hair turned white, too?"

"That is a disgusting thought."

"Ass, why did you put that image in my head?"

"Seriously though. Think about it."

"Hell no!"

"Urahara, you have issues."

But still, even within those alcohol-hazed, illogical conversations there came some words of meaning. There was a grain of truth within every madness, and if the three of them had learned of anything, it was of madness, and grief, and loss, and the best possible ways to hide if from the world.

"Have you ever noticed that your kid has some crazily intense spiritual power?"

Isshin half-smiled, and nodded.

"You're going to have to talk to him about what he sees, you know."

He nodded again, and the other two exchanged hopeless glances over his head, trying to reason with themselves, attempting to justify leaving Isshin's decision- foolish though it was- alone.

"Well, its not like he's ever going to be exposed to the shinigami, is it?"

"I suppose it isn't that important, after all."

Isshin nodded a third time, gratefully, and bought in the next round of drinks.


	153. Grave

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Kensei x Mashiro

**Grave**

If you knew him well enough then you knew exactly what he was going to do- he was painfully predictable like that. When he moved his head to the right she knew he was planning to side-step away from her thrust to the left; when he tapped his knee with the flat of his blade he was waiting for her to turn slightly, so he could sweep her feet out from underneath her.

It made it very easy to defend against him when they sparred, which often turned to light bloodshed as they got more and more annoyed with each other. It didn't make him any easier to beat- she wasn't strong enough for that- but if he was ever up against anyone stronger than he, someone with a sharp enough intuition to notice, then he would be in some serious trouble.

It worried her, sometimes, as an abstract anxiety that she tried not to think about. If he died, then what would she do? The patina of memories that littered her skin with the uncertain silver of faded scars made her think of him, and not only because a lot of them were gifts from his blade.

They matched his own scars- some wide and short, given from a thrust of blades into skin; some fine and long, like spider-webs; some clawed slashes and stitched together gashes and the marks of a thousand conflicts- ones he had won, but that was no promise that he always would.

She knew that when she was slipping into sleep she could rest her head on his chest, curled up against him, and he wouldn't mind; she knew that he liked it when she traced all of those scars and tried so very hard to make a smile break his exterior.

It was always too obvious though that he would ruffle her hair as she began to sleep- it always made her smile, with the assurance of the movement.

He was entirely predictable, and she knew that one day it would take him to his grave.

For now though, she would listen to his heartbeat, and ignore the certainty of fate.


	154. Respect

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Lisa x Chizuru

**Respect **

She caught sight of her from across the street, and stopped to stare.

You had to have respect for a woman who was willing to walk around with a bag labelled ''. Chizuru's own porn was tucked neatly inside her school bag, wrapped up in a carrier bag to protect it. She had the gall to do a lot of things, but to carry it around in plain sight was just not once of them, particularly when she had to walk out of the house in front of her mother.

The woman sat down next to her at the bus stop, and crossed one long, pale leg over the other. She glared out into the distance, crossing her arms, and hesitantly Chizuru reached down to pull open her school bag, to take out her own carrier bag, which had the words 'XXXSEXYGIRLZXXX'.

She swung it to and fro, and it caught the other woman's eyes, who looked across at Chizuru, who met her gaze, and smiled.

The school-girl crossed the road, and leant against the bus-shelter.

"You've got good taste."

"I'm Lisa. You fancy a drink?"

Chizuru tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears, and nodded with a coy smile.

"I've got time."


	155. Instant

Requested by The Crazy Chick in Black- thank you

Yoruichi x Byakuya

**Instant**

He spent his life being tricked and beaten by her, running behind her echoing laughter, tasting the dust from her heels. She teased him in every way that it was possible to torment someone- from pokes and names when he was little, to races and challenges when he was older. He was never able to quite catch up, to quite get there.

He could never manage to surprise her, to win the eternal fight, and her smile was always on the back of his mind: a taunt, an invitation.

So one day, because he needed to win, he crept up to her, and sat down next to her, and gave her a smile before leaning in and kissing her, on the mouth. It was brief, and he flicked his tongue against her closed and surprised mouth, but as soon as she began to press back he dodged backwards, a grin on his face and a taunt in his eyes.

Just for an instant, he had got one over on her, but in a moment she had moved, faster than he could see, to press him back against the wall and kiss him senseless.


	156. Autumn

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Byakuya x Rose

**Autumn**

They went for a walk around the Kuchiki estate in the middle of autumn. The air was hazy with damp, kissing their skin, and it was cool underneath the trees, the wet ferns that lined the path clinging to them as they passed, sticking to them like spider-fine, green fingers. A wind blew, and they watched the half-bare branches of the trees bending.

The world was sepia-toned, the sky an iron grey, the garden already acquiring the skeletal look of winter.

Rose smiled at him, a long, lazy smile, and wiped the moisture off his cheek with a finger that was surprisingly warm.

"Shall we go back?"

His voice was hushed and throaty, as if he didn't wish to disturb the garden, and Byakuya nodded. Rose took his hand, and they walked back towards the house through the scattering of leaves, red and orange and yellow and the husked brown of dried wood.

Byakuya picked one out of his own hair, and pressed the damp, burnt-orange leaf to his lips. It tasted of rain and wind and earth.

They reached the warmth of the house soon enough, and slowly pulled their saturated clothes off each others' bodies, piece by piece, baring pale skin that looked almost silver with the damp under the dimmed lights.

The leaves fell against the window, building up against the door.

All was still.


	157. Mental

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Ichigo, Zangestsu x Muramasa

**Mental**

Ichigo was pretty sure that he was going mental.

Every time he slept he saw Muramasa walking towards him; every time he closed his eyes he saw that strange, unsmiling face on his eyelids. He wasn't sure why it was happening, but he was blushing every time, and it was causing some extraordinarily awkward questions whenever it happened in school.

"_Oi, old man? What's going on in there?"_

All that came back to him was the ringing echo of an almost-smug silence, and the fleeting glimpse of a self-satisfied smile.

Inside his head, Muramasa ran his fingers underneath the wavering cloth of Zangetsu's coat, scraping across his still-covered skin with his long fingernails.

"You know, we are worrying him somewhat."

Zangetsu's eyes were unreadable, but he let Muramasa lean his spiritual body against him, the fur around his collar snaring the strands of his own, dark hair that flew about him on an improbably breeze. Their hands were the strange coolness that only those without a true physical form can have; their bodies moved with disembodied calmness against each other.

Ichigo woke to the haunting touch of something that he did not want to think about and the feeling of being worryingly unclean. There was something going on inside his head, and he wasn't sure that he_ wanted_ to find out what it was.


	158. Prize

Grimmjow x Ulquiorra

**Prize**

The sight of the lithe, writhing, pale body underneath him should have been enough, those low moans and digging fingers should have been fine, but the fact was that there was nothing in those eyes that gave anything away, and that freaked him out a little bit. He needed something to make sense of it all, some kind of reason.

So he pressed and worked at it and made it as good as he could. He never shut the door on him and he gave up his tactless insults in bed. It was hard, but he stuck to it.

His prize was seeing, just for a moment, a fleeting emotion in Ulquiorra's eyes, even though he did not know what it was or what it meant.

Just seeing it was enough.


	159. Ever

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Kaien, Renji x Rukia

**Ever**

Kaien cared very deeply for his subordinates, and worked them hard and to their full potential. He was a harsh teacher at times, but he was also a good one, and it was rewarding to all. He enjoyed what he did, even though he had declined his position for a while because he had not believed that he would.

And, he was convinced that, had he been given the task of training Renji Abarai, the brash young graduate might have been a lot happier for it.

He watched Abarai and his own little Kuchiki girl perform their dance around each other- him with an infinitely careful step that did not come naturally to him at all, and her with a unknowing humour that spoke reams about her own obliviousness, although the tender way that he caught her looking at her old friend suggested that the truth would not be as unwelcome to her as Abarai seemed to believe that it would.

It made him laugh, sometimes, at the sight of the blushing kid who tried valiantly to be a hundred things at once, so that people would stop looking down at him and that he could actually have some worth.

Kaien watched the two of them, watching each other, and laughed to himself.

The youth were painfully stupid. If Renji ever actually ever told Rukia how he felt, he would know that he _already_ had worth.


	160. Worth

Not actually requested- I misread a request for Rangiku x _Karin_, but whatever, I had already written it.

Rangiku x Kaien

Is there even such a thing as kido theory? Do I care anymore?

**Worth**

When she was assigned him as a senior mentor in the Academy, she had been struck at first sight by an incredible longing for the handsome, near-legendary graduate. He had grinned at her as he had walked into the classroom empty of all but herself, and his eyes were wide and bright with something close to mischief. For a moment she was lead to believe that this would be an education of an entirely different kind, but he tutored her with an entirely professional attitude, and never took any of the liberties that she would have been very happy to allow him to take.

Which was quite frustrating, really.

He patted her head, when he left, and she nearly found herself going into convulsions of joy. God. She was being pathetic, and, that was not like her at all.

And then, with an astute and slightly unnerving sense of realisation, she realised that the only reason that she had not yet got what she wanted was because of that very face- that she _wasn't _acting like her normal self.

Normal being the operable word.

The next time she saw him, she leant back in her chair until her throat was bared, and crossed her legs high up on her thigh, greeting him with a warm, sultry voice.

He stared at her skin for a moment, and blinked.

"Good afternoon."

He sat down opposite her and she rested her elbows on the table, pressing her breasts together and aiming a smile that was only slightly manipulative in his general direction. He blinked, and she was decidedly pleased to see a faint, awkward blush flare up across his cheeks.

As he flustered with the sudden realisation that he was staring, she silently applauded herself for her ability to turn any man into a dribbling moron. She sighed, making sure that her chest rose and fell with the movement.

"I'm struggling on this kido theory here. Could you have a look at it for me?"

Her voice was thick with suggestion, and as he leant forward to read the paper she leant in close to his ear, and blew on it, just a little, just enough to make him shudder. He turned to look at her, his blush deepening.

She leant in, and kissed him. After all, there were some things that he could teach her, but all things of real worth came from example.


	161. Lean

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Shinji x Hiyori

**Lean**

They did not lean on each other as they waited, because they were neither the kind to rely too heavily on the other. They all were tense, sitting in a half-way house as Kisuke- who never seemed to be out of ideas- planned their next move. None of them felt like doing anything but staring into the corners. Lisa sat with her knees clutched to her, Kensei with his back to them, Hachi with his head in his hands. The rest were listless, silent.

They sat side-by-side, a careful distance between them, unbroken by punches or pokes. Now was not the time.

They moved out later that day, and they still did not lean on each other. Even now, they were too tense to take comfort, and as the cold darkness of the living world air hit their lungs, Kisuke laughing that they had made it, Shinji closed his eyes.

He could not look. He would not look, not whilst it was still shrouded in the black of night.

She moved to the roof-top when they settled, the sky tinged with just the slightest of the morning on the horizon. Soon he joined her, but they still did not touch. They were not yet ready for it; instead, they waited, although quite what they were waiting for they did not know.

They stood side by side as the sun rose on the new morning, and their fingers intertwined as they were bathed in the new light.

She turned to him, scowling.

"I don't know what you look so pissed about. We're gonna be alright."

He looked at her, and slowly nodded.


	162. Quantity

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Mayuri

**Quantity**

He had not bothered to visit the living world in centuries; he had been imprisoned before that bastard Urahara had freed him, and since then there had been far more interesting things to create in his labs, and subordinates to do his work for him.

But recent reports had interested him, and so once the war was over and all the boring repairs done, he requisitioned himself some time off and went to visit- in the name of science.

If you had walked into the late-night pharmacy on the corner of Westham Avenue in the east quarter of Karakura that night, you would have seen a very disturbed store attendant carefully watching the only customer in the shop, his hand hovering over the panic button.

Mayuri's manic smile was stretched ear to ear, and he wandered from row to row with a basket slung over one arm, picking up pack after pack of non-prescription medication. Occasionally he laughed out loud, like a very warped child in a strange sort of candy store, if you squinted.

If you squinted really, _really_ hard.

The sheer quantity of pills astounded him, and that was before he even caught sight of the space behind the till where the prescription medicine was made up. On seeing it, however, he turned that smile onto the pharmacist, who slammed the panic button, only to realise that somewhere along the way it had stopped working. You don't often need a panic button in a small-size pharmacy in a nice, suburban area.

He slipped out the back when Mayuri turned his disturbingly avid attention- worryingly- to the shelf dedicated to medicine for female genital problems, and on catching sight of a girl with her ghostly-pale face pressed up to the glass of the window and an unearthly stillness to her stare.

On finding that he was alone in the shop, Mayuri slipped around to the cordoned off area.

This, he thought, was very interesting.

With a wave of his hand he summoned Nemu inside from where she had been waiting, and handed her the now quite heavy basket to carry for him.

Humans, he had to believe, were very ingenious.

Who would have thought that they could accomplish so much so soon?


	163. Reason

Grimmjow and Ichigo

**Reason**

"Ha. Do you know why I fight, Kurosaki?"

"Why?"

"To be the best. I'm going to prove everyone who looks down on me wrong. I'm going to beat everyone, and no one is going to stand in my way."

"I see."

"No. No you don't."

Ichigo closed his eyes.

"Do you have a reason, Kurosaki, a reason for fighting?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I fight to protect and to save those who are important to me."

A guttural laugh, broken by coughing.

"Good luck kid. Selflessness doesn't last long in this world."

Ichigo stared down at the broken, bleeding body of Grimmjow.

"Neither does selfishness, it seems."


	164. Hangers

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Karin and Tatsuki

**Hangers**

Full of the insatiable curiosity that often affects young girls, the two scoured the Kurosaki house for any explanation for his continued absences and the bruises and injuries that permanently seemed to plight him. There were no clues in the kitchen, no clues in the living room. They looked in the bathroom, but aside from some painkillers mysteriously labelled 'Fourth' and some gauze and bandages, there was nothing there that answered any questions.

His room they left until last, but it too was empty of any explanation. There were no hollowed out books with clues hidden inside of them, no drawers with false bottoms, no chests of secrets underneath his bed. In face, everything was entirely normal, or appeared to be, until they opened the closet.

And then they were left with an entirely new conundrum.

Why were all of his clothes neatly folded on the floor of his wardrobe, instead of hung up? Why were all his clothes hangers missing, as if to make room for something else to fit in there?

And why, oh why, was there a small bed made up in there too?

They left his room, if anything, all the more confused.


	165. Classic

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Aizen and Hiyori

**Classic**

It was always the ones that you least suspect.

But then, she supposed that she hadn't really suspected anyone at all. There were no suspicious members of the Gotei- all the Captains and their subordinates were good, because wasn't that _why_ they were part of the moral ordinance of the shinigami? Sure, she had seen that Ichimaru kid around, and had thought him a little creepy, but then she had always been a little freaked about just how _nice_ Captain Unohana was, and she definitely wasn't a bad guy.

But Lieutenant Aizen? The geeky one who followed around Shinji?

He had always looked so fucking _tame._

And, a century on, when the second betrayal had come to Soul Society, Hiyori could get the confusion of suspects. They had intelligence from the Gotei, mainly due to Yoruichi's skill at infiltration and Kisuke's apparent ability to do _anything_, and she could get why people were worried about that Kenpachi Zaraki, or Urahara's fucked up replacement. Hell, Ichimaru was still around, as freaky as ever, and the new Kuchiki sounded like an ass too.

She could get why you'd suspect one of them- even though, in the end, most had been innocent.

But Aizen?

He was just so, so fucking _mundane. _

And really, she hadn't quite accepted him as the bad guy of this piece until the Vizards went to join the war, and saw him standing there in the sky with his nice little troop of followers, all decked up in white and looking damn well pleased with himself. Part of herself had been sure that there must have been something _more_ behind this plan- another bastard hiding in the wings, manipulating his Aizen-puppet.

Because he just didn't make a classic villain, did he?

No one had suspected anything, and that rubbed her up the wrong way.

Sure, they'd all judged the Vizards in seconds, without taking a moment to look at what they really were- and that still pissed her off, even now, when they were all far stronger and more powerful and most of them without regret, only anger. She supposed that was why she had allowed herself to get so enraged so soon- and as she fell through the sky, her body suddenly separated into two pieces, she could not bring herself to wish she had been calmer.

It was his fucking fault.

It always had been.

And as darkness began to shroud her eyes, and the sound of Shinji's yelling began to fade, all that was left in the centre of her sight was Aizen, a vision in victorious white, and the a deep-running assurance that he could not win, he simply could not.

Because all along he had taken them all by surprise, but now they were ready for him. They knew what had to be done, and how to do it, because they could not let him have the ending that he had predicted for himself so long ago.

And it was going to be a fucking painful death for the man who called himself God.


	166. Permanent

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Momo and Kira

**Permanent**

She couldn't understand it, and didn't even try to see past the barrier of her former Captain's image in her mind. Izuru had always been such a good soul, in every way, and had always been sensible with it- how had he fallen so completely underneath the spell of the deserted Ichimaru, the man who betrayed them all, the man who stole her beloved Aizen?

He sat there when Hisagi and Abarai took them out, to try and make them both feel better, and he had that same inwards stare that she did, the same look that spoke so many volumes of emotion that could not, truly, be translated into words. And everyone took care of him, as if it was right for him to be so sad! Granted, they were caring for her, she could see that, but she was justified, because Aizen had been _taken_, had been _manipulated_. It couldn't be his fault, she just knew it.

So, what right did Izuru have, to act as if he were grieving as much as she was?

It filled her with rage, a feeling that burnt through the coldness of her sorrow and loneliness.

"How can you miss him?"

Her voice was accusatory, and Hisagi and Abarai looked at her with that cautious stare that so many people used on her these days. She was struck, suddenly, with the knowledge that somewhere along the line the two of them came to owe more of an allegiance to Izuru than to her, but as it was, right now she could not bring herself to care about them at all. The only one left who she felt _anything_ for was Izuru, and even then it was only rage.

"Hina-"

"No, it's alright."

Izuru was so damn calm, and it infuriated her. She was sure that there was pity in his eyes, too, and that was just as bad.

"He's gone, Hinamori. Gone for good, you know that, right? It's permanent."

"Just like your own Captain, Kira. Do you miss _him_?"

She felt venom on her tongue almost before the words came out, and a very small part of her (the part that was still the Momo from before Aizen, who just wanted to do her best), felt immediately shamed by it.

Kira nodded, slowly.

"Neither of them are."

She felt the rage build up inside of her body like a force awaiting escape: it was hot and painful and it bubbled with hatred and animosity, cutting through the urge to cry that normally lingered on the edge of her consciousness. Her jaw was tense, and although she did not see it, their two friends noticed that her hands, on the table top, were clenched so hard that her nails were cutting crescent-moon grooves into her skin.

"How can you just sit there, and say that like it doesn't matter?"

Her voice was near a scream; the people around them were staring.

Kira rested a hand, with such gentleness that she might have been made of glass, on her hair, as if that could make her feel better.

It only made the anger worse, a red flush growing across her cheeks. How did he have the audacity to be so tender, when his own touch was practically traitorous?

She stood and fled, leaving them, hating him.

But then, she realised as she slowed to a walk when she heard Hisagi coming after her, knowing that he could outstrip her easily, she supposed that she had to be just a little bit grateful, because aside from her anger, she had been so very, very numb, for such a long time. And though it had been- she was sure- that wicked Ichimaru who had taken Aizen away, she thought that she might, just, be able to forgive Izuru for still yearning after him, if only for the fact that right now, as his hand was on her head, she felt just a little warm.

Hisagi took careful hold of her arm, but her eyes had faded back to a blank stare already, and he lead her quietly back to the Fourth Division.


	167. Flavour

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you. Original request was for Urahara and Yuzu, but the slash just... crept in.

Kisuke x Ichigo, and Yuzu

**Flavour**

He watched Yuzu wander around the shop, list in one hand and basket over one arm, her older brother trailing her with a conflict of emotions on his face, trying very hard not to look over at Kisuke.

"Yuzu, hurry it up, would you?"

The girl- and oh, what a poor innocent soul she was!- patted him on the hand and pleaded with him to have a little patience with that absolutely adorable smile on her face, and paused by the confectionary counter.

"We have a new flavour of lollipop in this week, you know!"

His voice was chirpy, and although Ichigo had his back to him, he could see the boy shudder. Kisuke himself was not unaffected by the memory of just what they had done with one of those sweets the night before (Ichigo was still walking uncomfortably).

Yuzu turned to him with a smile.

"Would you recommend it?"

Ichigo turned too, gratifying Kisuke with the sight of a deep blush across his face.

"Oh, the vanilla is lovely, but I've always preferred the taste of strawberry in my mouth, you know?"

Yuzu nodded slowly, her hand hovering over the vanilla, utterly unaware of her brother, silently gaping at the audacity.

"And I know that Ichigo's favourite flavour is-"

He was interrupted by Ichigo. Or, to be more exact, Ichigo's fist, connecting with his mouth shortly before he dragged his sister out of the shop.

"Shut up, you pervert!"

Kisuke's laughter followed him down the street, only making his embarrassment more acute as Yuzu, in her sweet little voice, asked him what was wrong.


	168. Ecstasy

Hisagi x Yumichika

**Ecstasy**

"I think what I like the most about you is the colour of your eyes. No, your tattoo. No, wait, your hands. No, actually-"

"You know, I didn't actually ask what your favourite part of me was."

Yumichika pouted.

"Well then, what is your favourite part of me?"

"I don't have a favourite part of you."

Yumichika sighed, and huffed.

"This is why I should stop talking to you when you're working."

He wandered off, and Hisagi put down his pen. He would never admit it, but he didn't actually _have _a favourite part of Yumichika: he liked the whole package, delicious as it was, particularly when he dedicated that annoying mouth and girly hands into creating the _best_ sort of ecstasy.


	169. Trouble

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Kon, Toushiro, Matsumoto, Orihime, Rukia and Byakuya

**Trouble**

When push came to shove things could sometimes get very sticky, in situations when they had limited resources and were stuck in the human world. Ichigo hadn't caught up with them yet, and he and Matsumoto were still stuck in their gigai, with only the living-lion available.

"Captain, do you want to do the honours, or should I?"

In an act of chivalry that he would later come to regret, he obliged to eject himself from the gigai to take down the worthless hollow that was in front of them. It was pathetically easy, but when he turned back around, his gigai was gone.

"Matsumoto!"

She shrugged, and pulled an apologetic face, but by that time Kon was half-way across Karakura, in the body of a very pretty, silver-haired boy. He blinked his startlingly coloured eyes in the direction of a girl, who did a double take and smiled back, coyly. Normally, he would have stopped to ask her out, but today he was on borrowed time.

Today, he had a destination.

Today, he had a _purpose_.

As he reached Karakura High School he was pleased to note that Orihime- his lovely, beautifully formed Orihime- was sat by the window of her classroom, working diligently. He scaled the wall with inhuman ease, although was a little flummoxed for a moment by his shorter-than-he-was-used-to limbs.

He waved at her through the glass, and she stared at him.

"Toushiro?"

The teacher was bewildered too as he jumped through the window, perching on her desk and clasping her hands to his chest.

"Beautiful, wonderf-"

"Captain Hitsugaya? Are you feeling well?"

He spun on the desk, making it rock slightly, throwing open his arms to his as-much-beloved Rukia as he took to his feet, standing with his diminutive height. His smile was wide, his eyes sparkling, and there were almost hearts dancing around his face.

Rukia stepped back, highly disturbed. Her voice was wavering, uncertain.

"Captain?"

"My beloved darl-"

He was cut off as something punched him forcibly in the small of the back. He fell of the desk, choking on something coming up out of his throat- a small pill rolled innocuously across the floor, and a very irate Captain stood in full shinigami gear behind him.

"Matsumoto."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Retrieve my body."

Unfortunately, Rukia had a lot of explaining to do about _that_ particular incident. Not to mention the one next week, where Kon, who was proving to be surprisingly clever when it came to stealing bodies to proposition girls with, managed to get hold of the gigai of a visiting Byakuya.

The thought of her brother, down on one knee and attempting to fondle her, made her feel ill for a good few weeks afterwards.


	170. Prehistoric

Requested by Kiharu Lamperouge- thank you

Young Byakuya and Yamamoto

**Prehistoric**

Captain-Commander Yamamoto sighed, and resisted the urge to rub his head with the palm of his hand. It was a pleasure to visit the Kuchiki manor- years of breeding had ensured impeccable taste, brilliant hosting abilities and the ability to select the best servants in the Soul Society. The conversation was always eloquent and entertaining, and in fact the only problem was-

"Hey, old man!"

Byakuya Kuchiki had inherited the elegant bone structure of his ancestors, although it was still covered with a layer of baby-fat, and the arrogance of the aristocracy, but was too young to have gained the restraint of a high-class education.

"Dinosaur!"

In fact, the eight year old heir was, Yamamoto reflected, practically _bratty_.

The boy's grandfather had his eyes shut as they walked, obviously trying to ignore his grandson's antics.

"He will be trained soon enough. Please forgive him his impudence."

The boy pulled a face at the old men's backs, convinced that the two of them were the dullest people he had ever met. Prehistoric, that was their problem. His unrefined abilities picked up the taste of Yoruichi's power coming closer, and he brightened- there was a person that he could have fun with. God forbid he ever turn out to be as prissy as the two of them!


	171. Breeze

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you

Hanatarou x Kuukaku

**Breeze**

He was always sure that there was something not quite right about the two of them, the two of them being together. They didn't fit, when they stood side-by-side; there was something, in his mind, wrong with it. She was just so… so there, and he felt so incredibly insubstantial most of the time, as if he wasn't.

A ghost, a little pale thing that trailed after her wherever she went, that was only real when she looked at him, that could be blown away by the lightest of breezes.

She was a creature of muscle and power and unconquerable passion; a woman of strength and presence. When she walked into a room all people looked at her, and not only because of her loud voice and her strange appearance. There was just something about her that you _wanted_ to look at- and that was why so many people avoided doing it.

Because they thought that they shouldn't.

So, no one looked at her, and everyone looked through him anyway, because he wasn't always quite there.

The two of them, they were invisible… they were… they were…

"Hana, come on."

And then a smile broke across his face, making him glow with a radiance that he never would be able to see himself (and wasn't that half the tragedy of it?) and skipped to catch up with her.

She reached out and squeezed his shoulders, as the wind streamed their hair out behind them.


	172. Cracks

Requested by 3R15UKOUM31- thank you

Ulquiorra x Orihime

**Cracks**

She tried not to talk to any of the arrancar that observed her, and many of them dared the risk to sneak to her rooms to gawp at this human girl- _so frail, so easily killed; she doesn't even have a zanpakuto, does she?_- and though she was so lonely, she wouldn't, she couldn't.

Except for him. But then, he was different.

She couldn't talk to him the way that she could speak to her friends. She couldn't chatter, and laugh, and make jokes, and the conversation wasn't even two sided, because he never responded to her fragile attempts at communication. He just stood there, all alone because when he approached anyone else scattered, and watched her with an emotionless mask, as cool and perfect as white porcelain.

There was never any break in his routine expression- just the way that he was, even if she broke down into tears in front of him.

Anyone else would have comforted her, but in the blank violence of Hueco Mundo, she knew that comfort meant nothing, and any love expressed was a lie.

It was a desolate life.

She did not want to be here, but a strange, perhaps even archaically masochistic part of her wanted to be with him.

So, to distract herself away from her terror, her grief, her loneliness, she tried to break that mask of his, in any way that she thought possible. She told him a joke, but nothing happened. She dropped something, to surprise him, but it made no difference. She tried yelling at him, threatening him, telling him her past…

And then, she tried kissing him.

His lips were as cool as the rest of him, and as unresponsive as the grave.

She pulled back, looking at him, disappointed.

And then, for the slightest moment, there was just a hint of _something_; a whisper-fine crack in the smooth alabaster of his surface.

But by then she had already turned her back on him, and she missed it.


	173. Leaf

Ichigo x Kisuke

**Leaf**

"Ichigo, come here!"

"Why?"

"Just come here!"

Ichigo pulled himself up from the porch of the shop to wander over to where Kisuke was staring avidly at what appeared to be the gutter.

"What?"

"Look!"

Ichigo followed the line of Kisuke's sight to see a leaf floating in the flow of water.

"A leaf? Is that it?"

Kisuke rolled his eyes.

"Look properly Ichigo!"

The leaf, now Ichigo looked properly, was sort of distinctive. It was a startlingly bright red and was thread through with yellow veins; it was striking and attractive, but all Ichigo could see was a leaf.

Kisuke sighed as Ichigo wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Sorry, Kisuke."

Kisuke kissed him, because even though Ichigo couldn't see the beauty in some things, he could at least see the worth in Urahara, and that was all that mattered.

"It's okay. There are more important things."

Like you.


	174. Wrong

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you.

Noba x Rangiku

**Wrong**

She had assumed that he wouldn't be, in all that honesty, all that much fun. He was cute- from what she could tell- and it was pretty sweet how he got so flustered the way he did, but that generally did not result in a fun night out. Blushing and hiding behind his hood? No, not for her.

But, she realised, she had got him all wrong, and she wasn't sure if she wasn't pleased.

True, it had been her who had dragged him out, but it was only because everyone else was busy, or not in the human world. It was just her and him, and she had been entirely bored, and so had forced him into his human gigai and taken him to a bar.

To her surprise, he had been quite a hit with the women, despite his silence and his face, which was near-fully obscured. She heard them twittering about the 'mystery' and how nice it was to meet a man who wanted to listen, not talk about themselves…

And then she had felt a little bad for them, because although she had been having fun with the men that the other women were ignoring for Noba, he was blushing so red that he looked like he was about to explode.

So she took him by the hand and dragged him out of the place, and they had gone back to the shoten to drink some more, and soon through the haze of alcohol she had become very aware that his eyes were quite a beautiful colour, and that she was laughing so hard that it hurt a little, and he still had said very little, and now although he was blushing he had not zipped his mask up all evening, even when the women were falling all over him.

Almost like he had been… trying.

She kissed him through the mask, tasting fabric, pressing against where she hoped his mouth was. She was drunk and his eyes were beautiful and just for a moment he pressed back, against her kiss. Then he pulled back, eyes wide and the tufts of his hair starkly red against his skin, which had been drained of all of its colour.

After a moment he reached up and decisively zipped his mask again.

She threw her head back and laughed, because he was trying and she was wrong and against all expectations she had enjoyed herself this evening, and he was lovely and his skin through the mask had been warm and… and… and…

And now, she wanted, so very badly, to see him without the mask.

She just had to figure out a way how.


	175. Knot

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you

Ichigo x Lisa

**Knot**

She was a Gordian knot of complexities, and he didn't have a fucking clue where to start.

He was quiet, she told him to speak more. When he played his guitar, she told him he was giving her a headache. He tried to buy her gifts, she told him he was wasting his money, but when he saved it up she accused him of aiming for pointless things, whatever that meant. He went out for a drink (or, rather, Renji dragged him out) and she scowled at him and made sarcastic comments about him not caring about his work, but she got offended when he was fastidious with it too, as if she was taking it as a personal offence that he wasn't leaving her something to do for herself.

She scowled, and she still read things that made him blush. She had a pretty smile, but he so rarely got to see it that sometimes he forgot.

But then again, she understood him, too. He had never been comfortable with physical affection, and she was okay about that, and sometimes he went into dark moods when he remembered all the battles and the things he had seen, and she understood not to talk to him then. And sometimes she wanted to talk and he didn't, and sometimes he wanted to help her and she wouldn't let him, and sometimes it was all so complicated that it just made him want to throw the towel in.

And whenever he thought this, he was convinced that she knew, because those were always the moments when she chose to look at him with a piercing stare, as if trying to see all the way through him every part of him, all at once.

Then she would smile, and he would think that she may well have been complicated as sin, but he was no better.

At least, after all, they understood each other.


	176. Window

delays, delays, delays. apologies.

Ichigo and his hollow

**Window**

Ichigo had wondered, for a while now, what it would be like if he had a window to see _him. _Just something, anything, to let him see into the fathomless creature the same way that _he_ could see every part of Ichigo's self. The damned hollow liked it in there, he was sure, being able to read Ichigo's mind and screw with his thoughts and concentration enough to drive him half-mad with distraction a lot of the time. Ichigo would, although it was not a thing that he would admit out loud (after all, it would not quite fit in with his role as hero) to screw with his, in return, given a chance.

When he looked in the mirror, sometimes, he was convinced that he caught a flicker of white in his eyes, as if the hollow had just been there and had jumped out of sight before Ichigo's vision caught up. But then he would move his head again, and the reflection of the lights would cast a brief shine in his eyes, and he would have to accept that it was only that. Wasn't it?

But there was still something, wasn't there? Something in the way that his hands flexed sometimes in an action terrifyingly _separate_ from anything he had control over; the ghost of a smile that would flicker over his mouth, like a thief in the night, that he hadn't intended. It was a taunt, a blatant mockery, and Ichigo hated it.

He woke to laughter echoing in his ears, sending shivers up his spine with the assured feeling of a forgotten nightmare, a nightmare of white white white white white _white_.

He would feel better about it, he thought, if he could know that the hollow had nightmares too.


	177. Square

Umm... saluta-blue requested something stupid with Aizen and Momo. I fear that this is just terrible.

Aizen and Momo

**Square**

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Do these glasses make me look like a square?"

"No, of course not Captain."

"Ah."

A long pause, as Aizen contemplated himself in the mirror and the too-quick response.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"Are you at all biased in this opinion?"

A blush was all the reply that he needed.


	178. Own

Requested by 3R15UKOUM31- thank you

Yoruichi x Ichigo

**Own**

She owned him. When he cautiously asked her if, maybe, she would like to do something with him at the weekend, she had thrown her head back and laughed and told him, no, he would be doing something with _her_.

Much of a distinction? He didn't think so, but she seemed to.

And there was no way that he could ever be the one that controlled her- she had made that clear from the very beginning. There was no way even to tell when she was going to be from one day to the next- he just made arrangements with her, and sometimes she was there, and other times she was not, and then there were moments when she just turned up without a settled time; showed up on his windowsill, grinning in that way that always made her look like she was about to commit a crime (when she was only thinking about doing something like that _half_ of the time).

She left marks of ownership on his skin as well, and though he tried to give as good as he got it was near impossible to keep up with her- an annoyance that many had found about her long before he was born. That irked him, too. He could never be her 'first' anything, not in the way that she was his in so many respects.

She was the puppet-master, and although he really disliked doing it, he found himself acting more and more like he was the puppet dancing on the end of her strings; a momentary amusement until she flitted off to find some other toy to entertain her fancy.

But every time she reached for him, laughing and looking at him knowingly, he found himself blushing involuntarily, and always, always, _always, _reaching back.

He had to draw the line, though, when she bought him a collar.


	179. Personality

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you

Ichigo x Kuukaku

**Personality**

They definitely did not complement each other, let alone complete each other. They were too different, and in many ways, far too similar.

She had a sick and perverse sense of humour that displayed itself at the wrong moments, and about a lot of things he did not find the time to laugh. They could both be supremely stubborn, and both had a confidence of self that meant that they never believed that they could be wrong. She liked to make things go off with a bang- and not only when she was setting off fireworks- and he preferred the quiet life, these days, although he still liked to train. He liked silence, she liked noises, and the two of them could never agree on anything.

In fact, most of the time they didn't like each other at all.

There were just the odd occasions when they didn't piss each other off though. Sometimes they agreed with each other with such perfection that they inadvertently ended up finishing off each others' sentences.

"Ganju-"

"Shut up."

And sometimes they moved in total synchrony, their bodies aligning in an unlikely fit and pressing together in a heat that spoke reams about what they could never find (or agree on) the words for.


	180. Afraid

Requested by 3R15UKOUM31- thank you

Hebi x Karin, Saru, hints of one-sided Renji x Rukia

Hebi is the snake half of Zabimaru, for those who didn't watch the latest (filler) arc of the anime.

**Afraid**

He wasn't really afraid of all that much. He and Saru had seen a lot of things with Renji, and had been beaten up too many times to worry too much about pain any more. He hadn't thought that there would be anything that he would become afraid of- each bad guy that they met, they either destroyed or learned from, and if they were to die, at least it would be in battle, in glory.

Then, he found freedom. Then, he met her.

He supposed that it was far worse to have something taken away from him once he understood what it was. He had never been concerned with freedom before, believing himself to have it, but that brief time in the Human World had made him realise that he didn't have any of it, nothing like it, at all.

And then, to have to give that up again- that would hard. That, that would be difficult.

Which was why he supposed that it was better if he never saw Karin Kurosaki again.

Saru believed that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. He could tell- that was why she looked at Rukia with more of an affectionate eye than he did. He could remember, could still feel it even now, the grief that came unbidden over their wielder, and he knew that he would prefer any day not to have to face that, to be able to go back and change Renji in some way so that he had never met her, never had to live with that pain.

So, he was okay with never getting to look at her face, hear her voice, touch her skin; never again.

Because it was better that way. Safer. Stronger. It was _always_ the better way, to never had had her, so that he could never be afraid of losing her, after that.

Wasn't it?

If Saru disagreed, then she kept silent, and did not correct him. And if, at night, she heard him mutter a name in his sleep- just softly, under his breath, the two syllables catching in his throat as if he were sobbing- then she never mentioned it, to anyone.


	181. Think

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you

Rangiku x Ichigo x Nemu

**Think**

_I think, therefore I am._

She'd read that somewhere, she was sure- perhaps in one of those philosophy tomes that Gin had liked to read when they were younger and he'd been on a misguided attempt to find reason and order in the world- instead, he had found Aizen, but the philsophy had stuck with her. She could hear it spoke in his laughing voice, but tried hard not to think too hard about it, and not just because of the bad memories associated with her old friend. She didn't like the saying- the thought of trying to over-rationalise her life, the reason, the meaning, dismayed her.

She did not like to look at Ichigo and wonder why he was here. She did not want think of Nemu and try and work out why she could make her shiver that way.

_I breathe, therefore I live._

It didn't matter how hard she thought, did it?

As long as they _kept _coming back, as long as they _kept _touching her in that way, it would be okay.

Wouldn't it?

She shook her head. That was thinking again, wasn't it? And when they were splayed across each other in a hot, sweating mass of limbs and slicked back hair and warm, warm skin, then who needed rational thought?

She just took a deep breath of the heavy, sleep-filled air, and lay her head down to rest between them.

_I believe, therefore we continue. _


	182. Delicate

Requested by Panzerraptor- thank you

Soifon x Hanataro x Yoruichi

**Delicate**

There was something delicate about them when they were asleep, something that didn't fit with the way that they were when they were awake. Soifon's normally sharp features softened out, making her look fragile. Yoruichi's eyelashes rested against her cheeks like the softness of downy feathers, and she made small, childlike noises when she rolled over.

He sat to one side of them, looking.

Yoruichi lay curled on her side, and you could almost visualise a tail curled around her. She had pushed the covers off her body, leaving her tanned and naked against the clean white sheets of his room, in the attics of the Fourth division barracks. Soifon had all the sheets, having wrapped them around her limbs, pulled up to her nose. Yoruichi slept like she was dead; Soifon was restless, rarely staying still. Even now, her fingers fisting on the pillows, he could see the muscles in her arms tensing and then relaxing in pattern.

He wondered what he looked like when he slept.

He didn't think that it would be as nice a picture as the two of them made. He often woke up with a dryness in his mouth and a line of drool on his chin, suggesting that he slept with his mouth open, and he was too scrawny to look good without clothes, which was why he was huddled up in a robe right now. Really, he wasn't sure what he was doing here at all- he hardly fit, did he? Not with two things as breathtakingly beautiful as them.

Soifon rolled onto her front, arching her back, the covers too tangled to follow her movements and so leaving her breasts bare and gently erotic. He smiled at the sight.

He reached out, and touched the heat of Yoruichi's skin, like a live furnace; it was as soft as still water under his fingers, as she made a small hum, as if she knew he was there.

He didn't understand why two women, so strong in every way, could look as easily as breakable as glass, only when they were in his bed.


	183. Winter

Requested by 3R15UKOUM31- thank you

Ikkaku x Yumichika

"_And I remember the truth  
__A warm December with you"  
_Joshua Radin

**Winter**

Living in the Rukongai had been a tough, hard struggle. They moved from place to place, doing odd jobs and trying to get through the best that they could. Ikkaku had picked up a few scars there, although most of them had faded away by now. Yumichika, of course, had managed to leave the place as flawless as he _always _was, much to his gratification. It hadn't been the best of times, that much was true, and Ikkaku knew that it was undeniable that it was a better life here, in the Gotei 13, than it had ever been before. They had easy food and decent money for a job that they enjoyed (when Yachiru wasn't around), and nobody was seriously trying to kill them, and they actually had some respect here.

But, there was one thing that he missed, although it wasn't anything that he would ever admit out loud. Not just because it might have made him feel awkward, but also because he knew that none of his other drinking buddies, when they were all out and reminiscing about the 'bad old days', would ever really understand.

Him and Yumi', against the world.

In the depths of winter, when it had been painfully cold and ice had crisped the inside and outside of the windows, if you were lucky enough to have glass in the windows of whatever place you were sleeping in at that point, and they had been surviving on near-nothing, they had slept curled around each other for warmth, because it was the only way to make sure that you wouldn't freeze to death in your sleep.

He had a nice bed now- it was warm and soft and plenty big enough, it always smelt good and was never damp or uncomfortable, and there was even a place next to it for resting your zanpakuto whilst you slept. It was cleaned regularly, and he had a closet full of extra pillows and covers that he didn't need because his rooms were heated and the windows had real glass, to keep the chill out. He really didn't need to worry about the cold.

That didn't mean that he stopped curling up in Yumichika's bed.

It's just that now he did it for other reasons.


	184. Doctor

Another 'silly' request from saluta-blue that I fear went wrong.

Isshin x Ryuken

**Doctor**

"Hey… you wanna play doctor?"

Ryuken raised an eyebrow.

"No, I want to go to work and _be _a doctor."

"Oh… you never minded playing doctor before… in fact, I remember you used to _really_ like being the nurse…"

"Be quiet, Kurosaki. Some of us have work to go to."

Isshin smiled, and patted the empty half of the bed.

"Come on… come and play."

Ryuken glared.

"You know you wanna..."

Ryuken knotted his tie.

"If you do... then I promise that I'll wear the gag tonight..."

He glanced up. The thought of Isshin in the gag for a whole evening might just be enough to make it worth only being on time, rather than an hour early.

The tie was undone, and placed carefully on the rack.

When all was said and done, a night of blessed silence was not to be turned down.


	185. Rent

Requested by 3R15UKOUM31- thank you thank you thank you. Also, your Ulquiorra OC has grown- it seems that I cannot write OCs without them being too long. So, it's probably going to get posted as a one-shot soon enough. :)

Ichigo x Hichigo

**Rent**

His inner hollow lived inside his body, like a lodger that you wouldn't want to remember. He took advantage of Ichigo's hospitality, and although he borrowed its powers sometimes, Ichigo didn't get all that much out of it- or at least, not enough to make the uncomfortable living situation worth his while. And really, although the first few times he had demanded it he had called it rent, they both knew that the power was not the real thing that Ichigo was charging.

The real rent was sick.

It was twisted.

And it always ended up being extremely pleasurable, if a little sore the next day.

He wondered if he was narcissistic, sometimes. He was fucking a mirror, after all, even if it was a black and white inverted one with a pretty sadistic sense of humour and a preference for biting. When he looked in a real mirror he could see those eerie, yellowed eyes staring back at him, through his own, which was a decidedly unnerving experience when you were brushing your teeth.

It was strange, fucking in your own mind, with a creature that was nothing more than a spiritual embodiment of an evil force that living inside of you. Confusing as hell, but at the end of the day, when it felt that good…

He shouldn't complain.

There was no love between them, not really, and it was all about gratification and it could have been a lot worse, really- at least there wasn't the constant question of 'if he's going to call or not', was there?

Ichigo sighed, lying on his back on his bed, wondering if, if he were ever to get a partner of flesh and blood, if fucking in your head constituted as cheating.

And then he felt the tugging in the back of his mind that meant that the hollow wanted his attention, and so he closed his eyes and leant back in his bed and reached his hands down the front of his jeans to stroke himself into a hardness that would translate to his mental-self, and when he got there his hollow was waiting, grin wide and predatorily smirking.

Stark naked, an unearthly white.

"First of the month, King. Wanna collect your rent?"


	186. Tears

Requested by Yamagi Kushida- thank you

Ichigo x Kiyone

**Tears**

He had been coerced into taking her on a date by Captain Ukitake- not that the Captain would ever force anyone to do anything, but sometimes gentle words and meaningful looks could say reams more than intimidation could.

He took her to a nice enough place in one of the better districts of the Rukongai, since she wouldn't be able to get permission to go to the human world, where there was decent food and a pleasant atmosphere. He thought that it would be a good place to go on a date with a girl that he barely knew, and only then from brief conversations when she was on gate duty and he was waiting for Rukia.

He really, really didn't know where he had gone wrong.

Because she was crying. Damn well _crying_. They were in a decent restaurant and she'd changed out of uniform into a pretty outfit and he had accepted (on Rukia's demand) that he was going to have to spend a fair bit of money, and so far they had been having a good time, and now she was wiping her tears away with her napkin and making small, gulping sobs.

A tear had fallen onto her fork, and for a moment he watched it infract the light like a beautifully liquid diamond before he looked back up at her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. It's just… it's just…"

He stared awkwardly at his plate, glad that no-one had noticed yet, because if they had he would be feeling rather uncomfortable under the weight of dirty looks. He paid for the meal quickly, and lead her out into the warm night.

They walked in silence until she stopped, and then she cautiously began to speak.

"I'm really sorry that I made you feel awkward."

He shrugged in response.

"You just reminded… Kaien was buried on this day-"

"It's okay, you don't have to explain."

Ichigo was not trying particularly to be sensitive or kind- in fact, it was more the case that he was trying to make sure that she did not start welling up again. He had absolutely no ability to deal with crying women.

"It's just that Rukia was right! She said you were like him and you are, you really are, and it's just so… so…"

Ichigo had failed- he felt incredibly uncomfortable already. He was fully aware that people had made the comparison before now, and he had never liked it. He was his own person, not some reincarnation of the man who had inadvertently broken Rukia's heart. He didn't want _anything_ to do with Rukia's heart, at all.

"I'm sorry, I'm not going to cry again. You are like Kaien… but at the same time, you're not. It took me by surprise. I think I was expecting a new him, but you're different, and perhaps… perhaps not in a bad way."

He looked over at her then, and she was smiling.

"I think I prefer you. Is that wrong to say?"

He shrugged as they arrived back at her division barracks. He hadn't even known that she had known Kaien, and now this? He waved her goodbye with forced nonchalance, and made his way back to the world of the living.

He hadn't been intending to (who wants to repeat a date like that?) but after a week of thinking about it, he wrote her a letter.

He was thinking that, for thier second date, he'd take her to an amusement park.

He was hoping she couldn't cry there.


	187. Yourself

Requested by le car- thank you

Ukitake and Sogyo no Kotowari, with really vague hints of Shunsui x Nanao in the background. You can read it an one-sided Ukitake x Kyouraku if you want, but I didn't intend it to be

**Yourself**

"It really is okay, you know."

The two looked at each other, obviously bemused by the blatant lie that their wielder was telling them, with all the conviction of a worthy truth. There was something worried in that look to each other, as well as it being confused, as if someone who they had always thought was wise was making a mistake that they could not understand- for surely, if _they_ could see it, then why couldn't he?

He patted each of their concerned little heads with a smile that would normally warm them, but today all that they could see was a worn resignation in it that made him look unbelievably sad, even though he was trying so hard not to appear to be.

None of this made sense to them- why was their Jyuushiro so alone, when everyone loved him? People were stopping by to talk to him all the time, to ask his advice and to bring him gifts- why didn't he just befriend one of those?

"Because, it wouldn't be the same. They would not be my friend in the same way- it would be like one of you trying to replace the other."

He answered without them asking, knowing exactly what they were thinking, that they were questioning Shunsui's long periods in the office when they knew flat out that he would not be doing any work. They nodded; they understood that sort of impossibility.

"But, why is he not feeling the same way?"

Jyuushiro smiled again.

"Because he's found that one person, that is like one of you to the other- do you understand?"

"Well, why is that not you?"

"There is always one special person, for everyone, and I can't change that that is not me. But don't worry, I told you, it is okay."

The two shared another secret look that Jyuushiro did not attempt to interpret. He supposed it was inevitable to feel alone when even your zanpakuto had another more important to them- but it was okay, it really was.

"You're only lying to yourself, you know."

And with that final word, their materialised form vanished, leaving Jyuushiro blinking at the wisdom from them, just like a parent whose child says something amazingly shrewd and they are not expecting it.

He smiled once more, and leant back in his chair.

Everything would be alright. It always was, and Shunsui had promised that he would come over later for tea.


	188. Nothing

Requested by le car- thank you

Starrk and Lilynette, Aizen

**Nothing**

When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose.

She flexed the muscles that were still a little stiff and glanced up at Starrk, her- her what? She'd settle on companion, for now, because anything else was too complicated. He was staring at the figure moving towards them, the shape that didn't seem to be affected by their presence- he must have been incredibly strong, she knew, to get this close without dying.

She could see- tell- _feel_- that Starrk was about to step forward, and without quite meaning to, she reached to grab his sleeve.

He turned to look down at her, eyebrows knit in a frown. She suddenly felt a little flustered, and so the words that she had meant to sound smooth and coolly polite came out churlish, and a little bit more real because of it.

"Be careful, wont you?"

He nodded, slowly, as the person drew level with them.

Careful.

When you have something, you have everything to lose.

The shinigami offered something new for them both. Would it be worth it, to risk her, for the offer of companionship?

He glanced down, and she was still looking at him, but there was the light of excitement in her eyes. Of course there was- it was the mirror reflection of his own emotions.

He had something to lose, that much was true, but…

She took his hand in her own as the man- Aizen, he had called himself- continued to smile at them both.

But then, this didn't seem like too much of a risk.


	189. Iceskating

Requested by mitsu-kun- where on earth you got the prompt 'ice-skating' from, I'll never know.

Rukia and Ukitake

**Ice-skating**

He patted her head, and told her that he had something that would cheer her up. Rukia looked up at her captain from where she sat, staring aimlessly into space. The death of her lieutenant had hit her hard, and the pain of it still lingered in the darkness of her eyes.

"Captain, you need to rest."

"No, no. Be quiet, put on something warm and come with me."

And so she did, moving in almost catatonic slowness and she fought to remember how to move (how to move when _he _was not watching her). An hour later, they arrived at the edge of a frozen lake.

"Captain, what's this about?"

"Here. Put these on."

She stared at the strange shoes her Captain had handed her, but put them on. She had good balance, so as she stood on them she managed to keep upright.

"Step on the ice."

She did so, and he pushed her, sending her sliding across the frozen surface, almost gliding but for the pinwheeling of her arms as she fought to stand upright. She gasped in surprise, but her face broke out in a smile, and she found herself laughing for the first time since Kaien's death.

Ukitake smiled to himself.

He'd missed that sound.


	190. Traits

Requested by le car- thank you

Hanatarou x Lilynette

**Traits**

He had traits that made her want to hit him, sometimes. His self-depreciation and complete and utter lack of a backbone was enough to drive anyone into fathoms of irritation, particularly when they were joined with those damn eyes- so pathetic looking, like a kicked animal.

She had traits that, on occasion, made him wish he had never met her. When she yelled at him loud enough to make his ears hurt or make him flinch, or when she made him so late for things that he couldn't get all of his work done unless he worked through without taking a break, so that he ended the day exhausted.

He had traits that made her miss her old life. Sometimes he was just too complicated- she didn't understand why he _had_ to do things when no one was holding a blade to his throat- she couldn't contemplate this notion he had of 'satisfaction in a job well done'- what was the point, if no one was dead?

She had traits that made him want to run and hide for cover. Like when she was annoyed at him for whatever reason, and he knew that she would only yell even more; a tempting thought, then, was often to slip away into some little-known alleyway or sewer, where she could not chase him, waving her hands to make her point.

He had traits that made her want to hug him hard enough that she would be unable to let go. Like the way that he would blink at her when she kissed him, and then smile, as if he was the luckiest person in the world to be receiving her undivided attention, as if she were the greatest thing in creation.

She had traits that made him so happy that he thought he might die. She slept curled up next to him, her forehead pressed against his abdomen, and sometimes, if he was awake and the night was quiet, he could hear her mutter his name, and would be able to see the smile that would steal across her face.


	191. Bully

Requested by le car- thank you

Shinji x Hiyori

**Bully**

She tried to bully him into everything, sometimes with words, and other times with her fists, to manipulating him to do her whim. On occasion she would be able to make him do what she wanted, but most of the time she would just enrage him to the point where he would storm off in the opposite direction in order to vent his annoyance by attacking some poor defenceless tree.

There had been a lot of tree stumps near his office, but now he had to be more careful- if you ever took a wrong turning in the wooded park on the outskirts of Karakura, you might come across a clearing that looks decidedly unnaturally formed. Hiyori took pride in every destroyed tree: it was an indication of her handiwork.

Sometimes, out of a point of pride and irritation, he would do the exact opposite of what she wanted, just to piss her off.

"I think people look fucking stupid with some of these peircings."

He snorted, trying to ignore her.

"I mean look at this- a tongue piercing. Who wants to kiss a guy with a tongue piercing? S'just fucking disgusting."

The next day, after a heated argument, Shinji pushed her against the wall and kissed her. After a moment, she pulled away, grinning.

"You got it pierced!"

He stared at her for a moment, blinking.

"You _like_ it?"

She shrugged, petulant.

"S'better than I thought it would be."

She smirked to herself as she stole another kiss. What he _still_ hadn't realised was that sometimes, she could be subtle, too.

It was a whole, wonderfully masterful version of manipulation.

Next, all she had to suggest- with disgust, of course- was one of those vibrating tongue bars she'd seen, and they would be set.


	192. Spirits

Requested by le car- thank you

Kensei x Mashiro

**Spirits**

She was useless at drinking spirits- she always got too drunk too quick and ended up passed out on the way back, and it inevitably fell on him to carry her home, much to his displeasure. This night, fed up, he'd tried to pass the job on to someone- anyone- else, but they had all declined, telling him that as the strongest physically and as, more importantly, her former Captain, he should take responsibility of her.

The 'former' still stung him, and he picked her up with no gentleness or dignity, letting her head fall back, her mouth wide open.

She stirred a little as they neared the place they now called home, and sat up in his arms. She clung to him when he tried to put her down, and nuzzled against his chest, her pointed chin resting in the groove of his collarbone.

For a moment he was half way to dropping her on the ground, to crawl home- he was no bed, no pillow, after all- but he was stopped by a hand, palm flat on his chest.

"Mmm… you smell nice."

Her voice was a low hum, and he could feel the vibration of her voice against her skin. Her hand slipped down his fabric covered skin, until it fell away again.

He didn't drop her, but carried her not only back home but also to her room, where he lay her, with a care that came unnaturally to him, in her bed.

And if anyone saw the red-hot blush on his face, no one dared to comment.


	193. Cross

Requested by le car- thank you

Isane x Kira

**Cross**

She had sighed when she was sent word that Lieutenant Kira had, once more, disappeared. This was the third time since the end of the war, and though he had never gone too far (the first time, from recollection, he had been in a park, the second time a museum, it being easy to slip through Karakura, as they still had not managed to fix the distorted energies between Soul Society and the town after the transportation) she had thought that their talks had made him feel a little better.

She found herself blushing as she remembered those conversations, his sweet and tempered voice always able to stir things inside her that, long ago, she had firmly stamped 'inappropriate' and tried hard to ignore ever since.

Her Captain had asked her to retrieve him this time, although it was not something that would normally fall to her; Captain Unohana simply seemed to have an uncanny ability to tell what would best suit everyone all around, and the sway to convince others of the same.

It took a little searching before she found the taste of his rietsu in the air, and she followed them into, of all things, a Christian church. It was dark and cool inside, the cavernous space filled with an indiscernible hum of quiet conversation and an atmosphere of peaceful reverence.

He was sat near the back, and he did not look at her as she took a seat next to him. She stared forward, just as he was, so as not to make him uncomfortable, and found her eyes caught by the huge wooden cross that adorned the far wall, above the alter.

"What are you doing here, Lieutenant?"

Their voices were hushed in the stillness, enough to sound intimate, to make her blush once more. She found, to her dismay, that the tentative friendship developing between them made her happy more than she cared to admit.

"I tried to find religion, but I don't think it likes me all that much."

Isane sighed, and tried not to smile at the standard Izuru self-depreciation.

"Are you saying that you tried to believe in a religion that preaches an afterlife that we _know_ doesn't exist?"

He turned to her, mouth open before turning into that strange, small smile that was reserved for a select few people; the smile, she had come to realise, that meant that part of him was thinking of something else.

"I supposed I am, yes."

"Why?"

Kira looked forward again, the fists of his hands loosening until his palms rested flat against the pew.

"I think that I would like something to believe in again."

"You could believe in yourself."

There was a rise to his eyebrows at that, and she nibbled on her lip. Her next words came out a little hoarse from nerves- embarrassed and flustered, she regretted them the moment that they came out.

"You could believe in… me."

But then he turned to her and smiled again, only this was a brighter, more _real_ expression than anything else she had ever seen on his face: in her mind, it only made him look all the more lovely.

His hand found hers on the solid oak of the pew.

"I think… I think that that might be nice."


	194. Bottle

Requested by Rabid Fangirl121- thank you

Shunsui x Starrk

**Bottle**

At the end of a bottle, anything is possible.

He'd learnt that pretty quickly, as soon as he had starting drinking. Green glass, brown glass, clear glass- everything became distorted, but somehow became all the more clear. That was why, he always believed, he made the best decisions when he was drunk.

He finished the bottle that he was currently contending with, raising it to eye level to let the last few drops roll down his throat. Through the haze he could make out a figure, growing larger as he walked towards where Shunsui was sat at the bar.

He put down his bottle with a methodical clink, smiling at the new arrival.

Technically an enemy, the Primera Espada had not been warmly accepted by the Soul Society, but there was something about him that Shunsui could not help but be attracted to. Jyuushiro thought that it was their patent similarities, but he himself was not so sure. He was convinced that it was more the fact that it should have been impossible, and yet, it wasn't. He liked a challenge, particularly one that he did not have to try too hard to accomplish.

He was easy to talk to, easy to be with, although they still had not reached the same sort of deep-seated comfort that he had with Jyuushiro, his oldest friend.

He reached out, to welcome his new companion, and knocked the bottle off the bar top.

There was a smash of glass on the floor, shards of green catching the poor light and glowing as if they were internally lit by unearthly fire. For just a moment, Shunsui was reminded of an opal that a woman he had once known had worn around her neck, and his breath caught in his throat as he remembered-

But then Starrk was kneeling in front of him, gathering the shattered bottle together, and Shunsui was only aware of how much better the scene would be, he looking down at Starrk, on level with his knees, if the two of them were both naked.

With that thought, he grinned.

Starrk righted himself, hands full but uncut. He had a surprising delicacy, Shunsui had noticed- he didn't seem to be able to do anything by accident, despite his apathetic approach towards everything, including personal safety.

"You ruin all my fun, Primera- didn't you know that you were meant to cut a finger so that I could kiss it better?"

Without a flicker in expression, the other held out a finger.

"You can do it anyway, if you want."

Shunsui turned his nose up at the offer, turning his head away, in an act of mock petulance that all who knew him knew never to take seriously.

"No, you've ruined the moment, now."

Starrk just rolled his eyes and ordered another drink for the two of them, Shunsui exultant that he could get away with claiming this drinking session on expenses, since it was, after all, a meeting to better enforce inter-species cohesion. Or something like that.

If Starrk was disappointed that Shunsui hadn't taken his finger in his mouth, then he did not show it. But then, the Captain reasoned, they had proved the night before that there were much better things that could be done with the warm caverns of their mouths…

The drinks arrived.

Shunsui smirked.

_Anything_ was possible.


	195. Sunlight

Requested by Rabid Fangirl121- thank you

Shunsui x Ukitake x Starrk

**Sunlight**

The two stood behind him with the sort of smile that a kindly older child might bestow a younger one when they first learnt the joy of stolen sweets, but he was not eating anything and the sight in front of him was not stolen- just something that had been denied to him, for a long time.

Sunlight.

It lit the landscape with a radiance that he had only ever really heard about, never appreciated properly. Oh, he'd seen the sun before, but never like this, never feeling this… complete. Before, it had just been light, but now the warmth of it filled him with an immeasurable happiness that though you might not have been able to tell from his face, you could see bursting through from his eyes, wide and wondering, almost like that child with fingers sticky with sugar.

Two that could tell such things were his benefactors in this new world; those in charge of watching him, those that had, over the passing weeks, become his friends. And here he was, on the first day of his probation, seeing something magnificently beautiful, as if for the first time.

He turned back to the other two, and saw that it cast soft shadows on Shunsui's face from his ridiculous hat, his eyes bright with an unreleased laughter. To Jyuushiro, the sunlight gave his hair the phosphorous glow of something ablaze. He liked it; he liked them.

He could see Lilynette in the distance, lying in the grass with that girl who was one of Jyuushiro's acting Lieutenants. She seemed happy here, settled: but then, she had been let out a long time before he had been, as she was less of a threat.

Perhaps, he could be happy here, too.

With these two people, these two people who over the passing months, had become something more.

They moved forward, and he could feel the warmth of their bodies against either of his shoulders, like two stalwart bodyguards.

The sky was effortlessly blue as they lead him to their Captain's quarters.

Later, as Shunsui slept beside them and he ran slow fingers through Jyuushiro's hair to contented hums, he stared up through the skylight.

It had not changed. It still looked, that sky, painfully beautiful.

Perhaps this new life could be the same.

* * *

From today, this story will be going on a three-week hiatus. Please, feel free to keep sending in all your requests and keep reviewing.

Thanks, NT-x


	196. Weakness

Each one based upon a relationship or scenario from a Shakespeare play, but I don't suppose you really need to know them.

_Macbeth and Lady Macbeth from the play 'Macbeth', with Matsumoto posing as Banquo_

Gin x Kira

**Weakness**

_"the insane root  
__that takes the reason prisoner"_

He had his weaknesses; they all did. It was a part of everyone, wasn't it, just a part of nature? Something unavoidable, something 'fair enough'? And so what if he listened to every word that his dearest and closest said? There was nothing wrong with that.

Everyone knew there was nothing wrong with that.

And so, if some would disapprove of his actions? So what? He had done only what he had been told to do, what he knew was the best thing in the world for everyone involved- and how did he know? Because Gin had told him so, of course! And his Captain would never give him ill advice, would he?

He could remember the tension in his arm as his blade was against his friend's own- that was wrong, wasn't it?

But no, it was what he had been told.

So it must be right.

Because the only good things were Gin's touches, the only right thing to do was what Gin told him to do. And if that meant attacking someone who he should have been loyal to, then so be it- it would be right, if only because in reward Gin would press his lips to his own fingertips, then to the faint blue lines on his wrist, moving to the hollow of his throat, to his lips as his breath hitched and the memory of those bad, bad things slipped away.

That was what mattered.

Wasn't it?


	197. Callous

_Oberon and Titania from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'_

Toushiro x Matsumoto

**Callous**

_"And this same progeny of evils comes  
__From our debate, from our dissension;  
__We are their parents and original."_

When they fought, it was unpleasant for all.

Rangiku's anger was a short, sharp flare, whereas Toushiro's was the long heavy burn of ire that lasted for days when hers only last for moments at a time. He had a bad humour where being annoyed was concerned, and she was almost vindictive at times, biting. She always moaned, too, and could be petulant when she did not get her way, but he was forever finding faults with what she did, and his droning lectures were tedious when she was not in the right mood. He was painfully irritable, to the point of making Rangiku sulk at his mood swings, and he could be cruel when caught in the wrong mood, his voice cold and his words cutting. She would pull a face at his back, always petty, and whine about his stinginess with love behind his back.

They fought; their worlds rocked like a unified boat on the turbulent sea of their own relationship.

The water calmed; they settled.

They always made up.

Because she was always loving whilst his eyes looked at her in a way that made her flush a bright red. He always held her when she needed it, even if he did protest under his breath whilst doing it, and he knew that if ever he were to need her shoulder, it would be there. They could be as could be as callous as each other, but they could be heart-wrenchingly kind, as well.

He scowled as she kissed him, letting it smooth away as her hands tangled in his hair.

They always forgave.


	198. Escape

_Hamlet and Ophelia from 'Hamlet'_

AN: I know Tesla doesn't drown, but Ophelia does.

Nnoitra x Tesla

**Escape**

_"Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind."_

Nnoitra had bitten the white of his throat until he had been unable to do anything more than scream aloud: in ecstasy, in sorrow.

Tesla had known from the beginning that this strange man fully of so much loathing and anger would one day be the death of him, but he worshipped him anyway, stayed by him despite the hardships and the cruelty and – worst of all pains – the indifference. But he was his lord, his master! What else was there for him to do, but to bow his head and take the brunt of his madness? Nnoitra was cold steel and drowning currents and flames to melt the flesh away: he was the earth of an avalanche that would bury him entirely.

The gift of love, Tesla knew, came with a price.

Nnoitra watched as the water filled the lungs of his slave, his possession, his lover: he stood languid on the shore, stance almost impassive, but there was a joy of madness on his face that spoke reams more.

Tesla escaped, in the end, through the medium of drowning.


	199. Drag

_Bertram and Helena from 'All's Well That Ends Well', with Kisuke posing- worryingly- as Diana_

Yoruichi x Soi Fon

**Drag**

_"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together."_

She would drag her back, if that was what she needed to do. She never thought that she would have to resort to something like that, and indeed she would never be so unsubtle as to grab her by the hair and pull her screaming all the way home, Neanderthal-like in her annoyance.

And that bastard that had taken her away?

Well, she'd talk to him, alright.

And when she did, all Kisuke could do was laugh about it, and rumple her hair affectionately.

"What, you think I'm after your precious Yoruichi-sama?"

She glared, and she sighed. The bastard was as annoying as she feared he would be. It didn't help that Yoruichi's whereabouts was completely unknown- she had vanished, like smoke, deflating Soi Fon completely. It had taken her _this_ long to just find her way to this dilapidated shop.

Kisuke flipped his fan up to hide his smile.

"She's coming back here tonight, you know. You could always stop by… wait for her."

"She doesn't want to see me."

Kisuke shrugged.

"She doesn't like to be attached- it means she has to stay in one place for too long. I guess she spent too long being a princess: she hates the thought of commitment."

The woman across the table scowled at him, at the assumption that he knew her better than she did, and slammed her head against the wooden surface of the table: her tone was sardonic, angry, but there was bitterness laced in there, as well.

"That makes me feel so much better."

There was a long pause as he lit a cigarette.

"But you know, she'll be impressed that you went to the trouble of finding her, and tracking her down to here. And you know… she likes to have a port of call on her way around."

Soi Fon looked up.

"Seriously. Hang around. You never know."

So she did- she sat up in the kitchen long after night had sunk and her tea had gone cold and Kisuke had slipped up to bed. She sat there in the dark, hands still wrapped around the cool porcelain of her cup, not bothering to turn the light on. Hours slipped by, one by one, until at long last she heard the door creak open, soft footfalls in the shadowed corridor.

The kitchen light clicked on.

The room was lit, blindingly white.

Yoruichi's eyes were wide, her face was shocked as she stared into Soi Fon's own, impassive face. But then the shock was gone, melting away to a soft smile, warm and welcoming.

"You found me."

"I always said I would."


	200. Way

_Othello and Iago from 'Othello'_

Shinij and Aizen

**Way**

_"I will wear my heart upon my sleeve  
__For daws to peck at: I am not what I am."_

Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Safely. People don't notice you if you are quiet, if you make sure that you don't get too much attention, if you make sure that people don't look twice at you in the street.

Lay your foundations for mayhem, your progress for change.

Whisper comfort into the ears of those around you, breathe madness on the side.

He smiled at his Captain, who looked back at him with those doe eyes that spoke of trust, but not trust as absolute as he had hoped for. This Captain, he thought, knew too much, knew too well what he was capable of hiding. His Captain trusted him with the paper work, with the job, but not with his life.

This was not good enough.

He needed companions who would trust him with everything.

So he laid more plans, and smiled that wonderful smile again. He pushed his glasses up his nose every morning, glasses with lenses that had never been needed, because what evil mastermind speaks so nicely to people and wears- of all things- spectacles?

The light flashed off them, momentarily obscuring his eyes. People would not know: those that suspected, he would make sure stayed quiet. After all, he had a future to deal with.

That was just the way he did things.


	201. Pluck

_Katherina and Petruchio from 'The Taming of the Shrew'_

Kisuke and Hiyori

**Pluck**

_"told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen"_

You had to have pluck, to approach Hiyori with a smile that big and a glint in your eye that suggests that your best intentions might not be exactly what she approves of. Or, what she wouldn't beat you up for.

She glared at him, as he passed her a dishcloth.

"What is this for?"

"For you, my dear."

Her glare only intensified as soapy water dripped between her hands, as if the cloth had just come from a still-draining sink.

"I don't trust you."

"But it is a gift!"

"Why?"

"To wash the frown off your face, of course!"

His fan flipped up just in time to catch the cloth as it came back to hit him in the face. A brave man, indeed, but the taming, it appeared, had still not quite been successful.


	202. Where

_The title characters from 'Romeo and Juliet'_

Ichigo x Rukia

**Where**

_"O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,  
__That monthly changes in her circled orb,  
__Lest that thy love prove likewise variable."_

He waited, and he wished, and he dreamt of her and never let his fidelity wander. To him, there was only her.

_I promise._

He closed his eyes as the curtains blew back against the wall, and the white glare of a heavy full moon shone into his tired, half-drawn eyes. He left his window open every night, just in case she would come back on the one time he had locked it, and her, out of the closet world of warmth that his room and bed provided.

_I promise, Ichigo._

Split across two worlds: two worlds that could not be together. For what can transcend life and death? So much more than dissenting families or opposing countries. Mortality could not be breached.

_Ichigo, believe me_

But eight months had passed without another visit, and so many times he had watched the moon grow and die only to be reborn again with no word from her but sribbled letters sent through the breach. He watched that moon through the boxed screen of his window, like a fast-forwarded recording. It felt like nothing else had happened, and although of course it had, it was that everything else was unimportant, compared to her.

_As soon as I can, soon I will be-_

"-here. Wake up, Ichigo, I'm here."

He didn't know he had been asleep, but his eyes were open again, to the sight of her.

She smiled at him, and mortality no longer mattered.

Love would, love could, transcend death.

Literally.


	203. Melody

_Caliban and Miranda from 'The Tempest'_

Mayuri and Nemu

**Melody**

"_There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:  
__If the ill spirit have so fair a house,  
__Good things will strive to dwell with 't."_

If you were to look at them, one would think he should worship her, the idol of his imperfection, the pinnacle of all that should be in the world. But imagine if it were not the monster in the darkness, the beauty in the light? What if it were she that put he on a pedestal, that waited to every one of his commands? Beast has always watched Beauty, that is the way of the world, but he was a man that took such laws and broke them over his knee.

To every insult directed to her Captain, she shook her head. Every time someone tried to draw her into insulting her Father, she closed her eyes.

For to her, nothing ill could ever be said of the man who imposed himself on every aspect of her life.

He was, to her, as a god would be, even if he were a devil to others.

In the darkness, the monster closed his eyes without fear of redemption or revenge.

His Miranda stood guard on his door, ignoring the faery-whispers of melodious dissent that echoed around her.


	204. Nowhere

_Anthony and Cleopatra from 'Anthony and Cleopatra'_

Starrk x Harribel

**Nowhere**

"_If it be love indeed, tell me how much."_

There was no tragedy in their relationship, though it was a tragic one. They would exist only long enough to make their deaths worthwhile, but they would not mourn them, nor would they contemplate such brevity.

They were not destined to be together, forever.

No fate would force them to it.

They were nothing, going nowhere, they were obsolete creations.

He would not neglect his duty for her, and she in turn would feel no inclination to do the same for him. He would not, could not, ignore his first companion for her, and he knew well that he would not die for her.

He was no tragic hero, who would throw his life down in honour for her- and she would not expect him to, for she held no such concepts of trivialities to her heart. Their passion was not destructive- it was distraction, and it would only remain so as long as they needed it.

Warmth in the white world, but no hope of redemption.

That was enough; they needed no more.


	205. Ground

_Julius Caesar and Marcus Brutus from 'Julius Caesar'_

Aizen and Momo

**Ground**

_"Et tu, Brute?"_

The only thing that felt real was the ground beneath her feet: everything else had swum into incomprehension the moment that he had gone into the sky surrounded by the acolytes of his worship, those two men whose place she would take in an instant, adding her innocence to the smiles and blindness. She thought she saw his eyes, for a moment, before reality – and oh, how painful reality was – caught up with her, and all she could see was the tight line of her own mouth, the whites of her staring eyes in the mirror.

You as well, Captain?

How could he ever be one of those, one of the evil throng that now threatened them? It could not be, could it? No, impossible- not he as well, not her prince of gentleness and wisdom, of kind smiles and pretty, calming words. He must have been tricked, must have been taken against his will- but the steel of the blade in her flesh, the memory still lingering and hurting more than the wound had ever done, confused her; why, why, why?

Why did you do that, my love, my love that was never truly my own?

She felt the ground under her knees as she fell. The mirror came down with her, shattering into the thousand pieces of her broken dream. She held one tight in her hand, the bite of the real world as blood ran onto the floorboards, her eyes swimming with tears so that nothing looking right; everything blurred out of focus.

The world did not make sense.

You too, Aizen?


	206. Right

Requested by le car- thank you

Lisa x Rose

**Right**

He was always right, and she really hated that, because that was _her _job. She was far too used to being in control- mainly because she had to be, with her wayward Captain and his preference for ignoring what needed to be done. And even before that, she had been the one who was always looking after her friends, the one who had pretty much raised Nanao and the one who still looked after her elderly grandfather- at least, she had before she had to escape.

A stab of worry then, and it must have shown on her face, because he rested a kind hand on her shoulder and kissed the side of her head.

He always knew the exact right thing to do, as well- and that hurt. It was far easier to keep a straight face when no one could tell what you were feeling, and would- urgh- sympathise.

"It'll be okay."

She felt like screaming, yelling out loud at his perfection.

"You don't have to tell me that. I _know._"

He smiled, and it made her frown ease away a little.

"I know that you know. Sometimes, you deserve to be reassured, you know?"

"Reassurance isn't necessary."

He kissed her again, this time on the mouth.

"Of course- you're always right."

See? Always the perfect thing to say.


	207. Vase

Requested by le car- thank you

Kira x Kiyone

**Vase**

He had bought her a vase when she was hospitalised, for a minor leg injury that kept her off her feet for a few weeks for fear of complications. Twenty-one days in bed, in the fourth division, felt like a _lifetime_ of boredom. He brought it her on the first day, a tall, cracked green glass vase that had a faint line of dust around the rim, as if it had been packed away for a long time.

He had just smiled gently at her, and pecked her on the cheek, and left.

And that oddity, at least, kept her a little interested.

The next day, she woke from a dozed drug-induced sleep mid-afternoon, and in the vase was a single, long stemmed lily, still budded. She frowned at it, but assumed that it had been the cutting from another patients bouquet, that her sister had slipped in for her. It was the sort of thing that Isane would have done.

But then, the next day, it was an orange tulip. Then a yellow chrysanthemum, then a bluebell, that had obviously been picked from a garden. Each day, there was a new flower, a new one to smile at and to make her feel better. Roses, irises, narcissuses, dahlias, and some flowers that she didn't even know the name of, each one was silently and secretly dropped in the vase at a point in the day or night when she was asleep- the seventeenth day she spent laughing at the bedraggled dandelion that had found its way into the vibrant mixture.

On her last day, though some of the older flowers in the haphazard bouquet were wilting and stained with the brown spots of dying foliage, there was a thrill of excitement as she heard a knock on the door. Turning, she caught sight of Izuru, who she had not seen since she was first admitted and whose friendship- be it a tentative and new one- she had surprised herself by missing.

He was holding an orchid by the stem, and was smiling.

"Would you like to come to dinner?"

She smiled, close to laughter, as the dots connected and she caught sight of the vase out of the corner of her eye.

"I'd love to."


	208. Inside

Requested by Rabid Fangirl121- thank you

Aizen x Starrk

**Inside**

What on earth was going on inside that head of his?

There were ways to read everyone, and Aizen was an expert on such matters, but there was the occasional moment when his Primera Espada would confound him utterly with his admirable ability to be completely unfathomable in every way. Not always, of course- Aizen wouldn't have kept around someone like that, who might prove too dangerous.

But now, for instance. The ten pillars of his Espada were stood in line in front of his throne, awaiting instruction. He could scan the line of them, and know what they were feeling, despite their carefully indifferent expressions. Octava, bored, no doubt waiting to go back to a more interesting diversion in his labs: Cuatro, whose blank look hid nothing but a blank interior, coloured only with complete obedience. Sexta, scowling, the most outwardly disobediant and the easiest to predict. His Segunda, agitated below the surface as he always was when he was given orders.

Then Primera, who was staring at the shadows just to the right of Aizen's head.

When he dismissed them he requested him to remain, and he did, not even flinching as Aizen watched him with a coolly inquisitive eye. To his credit, he didn't show a flicker of emotion when Aizen, languishing in his throne, beckoned him over.

He did as commanded, kneeling at the base of the throne with his eyes downcast.

Aizen ran a lazy finger down the side of his face, thumb resting on the underside of his jaw and the other three fingers playing across the warm, dry line of his lips. Obediently, Starrk opened his mouth, letting Aizen's own fingers slip into the damp warmth.

Still, not even the slightest hint of feeling, until.

"Starrk, I am so glad you could join us in Las Noches, you know."

And there it was- a beautiful emotional wreckage in his eyes, of hopelessness and happiness and the complete and utter need for companionship, and all of a sudden his Espada was no longer pliant, but was sucking on his fingers, hands flat against the white rock of the throne for fear of touching him.

And Aizen smiled, because though it was sometimes hard to read him, it was always startlingly easy to manipulate him into feeling _exactly _what Aizen wanted him to.


	209. Month

Requested by Rabid Fangirl121- thank you

Kenpachi x Starrk

**Month**

"Does she keep you company?"

He nodded towards the little girl that had stationed herself on a highly annoyed Lilynette's head, chewing on her mask-helmet.

The Captain shrugged, a great levelling of his shoulders.

"Does she stop you from being lonely?"

The Captain spat in the dirt, and only part of the saliva was bloody. The Espada was the best fight he had ever had, except perhaps for that first one with Ichigo, and he just wished that it didn't involve having to creep away to the forbidden Hueco Mundo to do it. It was always such a challenge, and the Primera never tried to avoid a bout, unlike that damn Kurosaki, who ran in the opposite direction. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, and stared levelly across at his… enemy? Friend?

"When will you be back?"

The Captain turned, to find them alone on the sand, the other two having disappeared to race. The Espada looked at him with something akin to forlorn on his face, a tired emotion that, for some reason, reminded him of his days in the Rukongai, before he had found his ward, when people scurried out of the way of him and he had no-one to call his companion.

He blinked at the sight of that wretched, never-admitted loneliness that had haunted him for years staring right back at him, through shadowed eyes.

Three steps, and they were face to face. Two expressions, one on either face that came in absolute sync, of unbridled and uncontrollable _want._

One movement, for the Captain to lean downwards to press their mouths together, the sheer gravity of need meeting the force and feeding on it, the scrape of teeth and rasp of stubble, the interior pull of lust from such proffered salvation.

They parted when they heard voices approaching again, from over the sand dune, and stared at each other with, weighted.

"Within the month."

Starrk nodded, just once, before turning his back, and walking away.

After all of the years of waiting, what was a month to taste such a thing as that again?


	210. Rings

Isshin x Masaki, younger Karin, Ichigo and Yuzu

**Rings**

He held the rings in his hand, three circular bands of nothing more than solid metal that should hold no more meaning than iron railings, or lead in a pencil.

One ring, the first one he gave her, to symbolise that he had asked her to be with him, only with him. An engagement ring, only a small stone, because anything more would have been ostentatious (and more than he could have afforded). The second ring, given in a near-empty service, a promise that they were now one, a married couple, man and wife, together. And the third ring, delicate and different, bought after the birth of the twins when they had a bit more money, symbolising forever- an eternity ring for a woman snatched too cruelly away from him.

He clenched his fist, sheltering them from the rain, and turned his back on the grave, locking out the grey and miserable weather as he shut the car door with a quiet thump.

He was soaked through from the rain, but as he turned around his face softened a little; his three children had fallen asleep, curled up in the back seat, each sister resting on their brother who sat in the middle, a frown on the young boy's face that had become characteristic of him during the last few days.

He looped the rings through a long chain that he had in his pocket, and slid it over his neck. One day he would give them each one, when they were grown and gone and would leave him alone with his memories. Karin could have the eternity ring, for hope; Yuzu the engagement ring, to remind her that sometimes she could be reckless. Ichigo, the one he worried most for- he would have the wedding ring, the one that he could look at and recall that not everything was as transient as life sometimes made it out to be.

For now, though, he would keep them. As long as they rested against his chest, his skin warming the metal, then he could carry on, because he would be sure that she would not have truly left.

And he needed to carry on. He couldn't afford not to.

Not when there were three sleeping children, _their _three, beautiful children, who needed their father to make up for the glaring absence of their mother.

He swallowed. He wasn't sure if he was up for the job, if he would manage it all particularly well, but he supposed that he had to try.

He had to- even if, right now, all he wanted to do was cry.


	211. Cook

Requested by le car- thank you

Renji x Tatsuki

**Cook**

Both of them were terrible cooks.

In fairness, neither of them were as bad as Orihime, but their arguments in the morning about who should make breakfast were always the wrong way around- one trying to make sure that the other would not go up and incinerate toast or burn bacon or something like that. Renji couldn't even open tins without spilling the contents half-way across the room, and Tatsuki had never made anything that she hadn't burnt to a black, curling crisp.

But, when Rukia demanded a birthday cake from every one of her friends, the two of them had been included, though the thought of baking one filled both of them with dread.

The sugar and butter was snacked on by Renji even when it was placed in the bowl, enthusiastically tasting the beaten-together mixture despite her protests. He only stopped when she kissed him into promising to leave it alone, though he still snuck a final one when she had her back to him, peering into the fridge.

The egg shells smashed when they tried to crack them, and they had to spend ten minutes fishing pieces of shell out of the bowl. The flour bag near exploded on them, covering them both in a haze of dusty white powder, so that Tatsuki's hair ended up looking grey. They fell into hysterics at the sight of each other then, and they almost forgot to actually add the flour.

The mixer sent splodges of lumpy batter onto the far wall, and into Renji's face, already sticky with the mixture of sweat and flour. He would have been more offended, but for the fact that Tatsuki shut up his protests by eating the mix off him.

There then followed a quick dish-cloth whipping fight, before they washed the remnants of the ingredients off their faces. The cleaning of the kitchen went surprising well, however, unfortunately, when they opened the open, they observed a slightly-too dark, un-risen _thing _that flatly refused to come out of the baking dish.

Tatsuki sighed, and Renji rubbed a missed smear of flour off her nose.

"Shall we buy a cake?"

A nod.

"That might be for the best."


	212. Bed

Requested by le car- thank you

Gin x Rangiku

**Bed**

His body was uncomfortably angular, but when he lay on top of her, like he was doing now, everything seemed to fit together so that it didn't matter: the jut of his hip bone rested against her thighs, just wide enough to be resting on either side of her. He was not heavy enough to be uncomfortable, not really, unless he moved.

His mouth roved around her neck and shoulders, slowly, dangerously, wonderfully.

"Do you love me?"

A laugh, a kiss.

"Of course."

Worn out and half-asleep now, his caresses slowing as he, too, started to slip to post-coital sleep, she let out a long sigh and fell silent for a short time, and he stroked her ear with a cool fingertip.

"Will you always love me?"

A tongue, flicking against the line of her collar bone, lazily. He buried her face in her neck, his hands moving up to rest on the cool, creased pillows.

"You know I will."

Silence, as she smiled, ready to fall asleep, but before she could succumb to it a question to occurred to her, in their warm, satisfied glow.

"Will you always be here with me?"

Fingers, long and pale and dextrous, tightened on the pillow case next to her, and she pretended not to notice, her eyes still closed and her breathing level, for all the world as if she had said such things slipped off to sleep, something to be forgotten in the morning.

She feigned sleep when she realised that he was never going to answer.


	213. Dig

Requested by Neko-Shakaku- thank you

Ukitake and Hitsugaya

**Dig**

Though he was officially an adult (as agreed by the collaborative Fourth and Twelfth division, after he had demanded a decision be made on his undecided status, since though he was small and under-developed he was also a couple of hundred years old) and well respected as a Captain and shinigami, it seemed that not every person was quite willing to accept it.

One such person was Captain 'please, call me Jyuushiro' Ukitake, who seemed quite convinced that lurking still inside of Toushiro 'that's Captain Hitsugaya to you!' was a small child that had been oppressed and denied for far too long.

He was also convinced that, if he dug for long enough, he might be able to uncover it.

So, he plagued Toushiro with games and sweets and toys, hoping against hope that one day he might loosen up a bit.

Toushiro just found it highly annoying.

He didn't like the sweets, and Matsumoto could only cram so many into her mouth without feeling ill. The toys just pissed him off, and he could never quite force himself to give them back to the other Captain, for fear of making him look… hurt. He shuddered at the thought- imagine the horror of those lovely eyes, welling up with tears, all because of him…

No, he couldn't do it.

He was sure that sooner or later that the other Captain would get over this new obsession that he had, and go back to trying to cut down Kyouraku's drinking intake or making Kuchiki smile, trying to convince the Captain-Commander to trim his beard (really, it just wasn't practical) or that creepy Kurotsuchi to come outside without all his make-up on or something else like that. He would forget, eventually, trying to make Toushiro have fun.

In the meantime, he just had to make sure that no-one ever found out how much fun he had playing on the miniature pin-ball machine he had been given three months ago.

It was one thing to hurt Ukitake- another entirely to give him the satisfaction of being right.


	214. Vegetables

Shunsui

**Vegetables**

Shunsui remembered few things about his youth, much of it lost to the warm-summer haze of memories, the years having turned much of the experiences he must have had into a vague mist, like soft sunlight at the end of the day. Some things he did remember: the feeling the first time he had kissed someone, the taste of that first ever drink, stolen, when he was underage, his youthful laziness only disappearing when mischief was involved.

Another, less happy memory: a plate of unappetizing vegetables and a voice, hovering over him, saying:

"If you don't eat your vegetables you will never grow up to be big and strong."

Shunsui smiled at himself in the mirror as he shrugged on his new captain's haori, at his broad frame and height and impressive musculature.

Haha.

Screw them.

He had _known_ that he hadn't needed those horrible green things.


	215. Exist

Requested by Neko-Shakaku- thank you

Ukitake x Unohana

**Exist**

In the middle of battle, he had no time to look for her. There were enemies to the front and to the back of him, and all around as well, as far as the eye could see. He had lost sight of Shunsui hours ago, and his Lieutenant long before that, and still the foe were advancing, their numbers seemingly undiminished. He had thought that the battle against the Quincy had been catastrophic, but these numbered so many more, and were as well versed in hand to hand combat as any shinigami.

He supposed that it was a good sign that Shunsui had not released his bankai yet- and you could _tell_ when he had- things must not be quite that desperate.

He couldn't sense his Lieutenant anymore, for too many things were crowding his senses and he could not focus enough to find its subtlety, but on occasion he could hear his roaring voice and catch a flash of his distinctive red hair.

Her.

Where was she?

Foolish to be concerned, but concerned he was- despite the fact that he should have been focusing on his own battle and that she was far better versed in battle than he, his young heart beat with a fluttering panic at the thought of her being in danger, although the rational part of his mind knew that if there were a danger that she could not face, he would be of no use to her at all. Regardless, he would want to be there, even if she still had not quite succumbed to his tentative attempt at seduction.

She had smiled at him when he, blushing, had approached him- blushed as red as the blood that now stained his haori, ripped hours ago, which would annoy him afterwards, since it was so new.

She would be fine. He had to believe- we only exist, because we continue to hope.

A blow, to the back of his head sent him reeling, but not enough to knock him to the floor. Instead he stumbled, and would have tripped into the writhing mass of bodies, but for a hand that grabbed his shoulder and pulled him steady.

A voice, by his ear.

"Careful, Captain, or you might not make it to that dinner you promised me."

A hand, against his neck.

"Not much longer now, Jyuushiro."

And then she was gone, back into the fray, and it seemed she was right- the numbers were lessening, it had only been the fatigue of battle that had seemed that it was so unconquerable.

For dinner?

He found himself smiling.

Perhaps, whilst there was hope for that, he might claim victory here.

* * *

**IMPORTANT.** Hey, guys. I'm considering putting this on hiatus- not because I'm lacking inspiration or requests, but because there does not seem to be enough interest in it anymore. I'm not even sure if there are that many people who read it at the moment. So, unless I get some significant feedback on this in the next couple of weeks, chances are that I might stop. If you wish me to continue, I suggest dropping a review and showing me that there are still people reading this.


	216. Give

Okay, after some thought I've decided I'm going to keep writing this. I want to offer a massive thank you to Nadie, Kiharu Lamperouge, Saluta-Blue, 3R15UK0UM31, KawaiiRiniBunny, le car, cy-grl and mitsu-kun, as well as new readers The Window, Tolkien'sInkwell and Stonecreek, and the whole host of anonymous supporters as well. Oh, and there were more of you who messaged me, and thank you to you guys as well. So, I'm back, and open for business and requests and the like. Onwards we go.

Requested by Sakura Mau Toki- thank you.

Kukaku x Mayuri

**Give**

Give, give, give. He was always trying to give, because although he was hardly what anyone would consider normal he was not inherently selfish, except for where the acquisition of knowledge was concerned or he needed someone to do something. Or if he didn't think anything of the person in question.

Okay, so most of the time, he was selfish, but he never was with her, because he saw her as an equal in many respects, and so he didn't really have to be. And besides, she was never trying to take any of his precious resources (or cut away from his budget).

So, he offered to give her back her arm.

It would have been relatively painless, and wouldn't have taken so long to do. Not even a synthetic arm- he could, with the right techniques, literally grow back another new limb, without even much of a scar to show where it would have to be re-seamed. It would have been flawless; a wonderful gift- really, a gift beyond measure.

And she had laughed in his face.

"You're a fucking idiot. Do you really not get it? Just because I don't have a limb doesn't mean that I'm not _complete._"

He stared at her, thrown off guard. Because surely to be whole, it must mean that your body is perfect?

"That's a strange opinion. Wrong, entirely, of course, but… interesting."

She shook her head, and settled herself in his lap, facing him with her legs on either side of his waist. She rolled her eyes at him, and began to pull at the various pieces of decoration that masked his true features, wiping off his make-up with the hem of her shirt.

"And just because you add stupid shit, that doesn't make you any _more_ of a person, either."

To that he was silent, merely staring at her as she continued to strip him of his disguise.


	217. Heavy

Requested by the The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

All this could make me think of was Angela Carter's 'The Tiger's Bride'. Bah. I need a new literature muse.

Komamura x Momo

**Heavy**

She loved him.

His presence was a heavy weight on her conscious: even when he was nowhere near her, she though about him constantly, and it brought a smile to her every time that she did. He never had to do anything to make her feel this way- it was just the way that he stood next to her, a mighty beast of owning strength that made her feel safe, safe in the way that Aizen used to do, but with a sense of property and love that Aizen, with all his noble and intelligent distance, never gave her.

The sort of thing that she had always craved for, although she had never known that she had.

She loved him, with a consuming passion, with an obsession that felt far healthier than any other love that she had known, for she felt no fear with him, and knew too that he would never be the one who would make her perfect- because _he_ knew, with an undoubted clarity, that she was just fine the way that she was. He wasn't trying to fix her at all.

It was that sort of thing that was so typical to him: a simple-ness of thought that was in no way connected to his intelligence. For him, when he saw something good, nothing more was needed to confirm it was so.

She could wrap herself up in his arms, bury her face in his fur. She liked to rub her nose against the thicker, bristling fur on her arms and drag her mouth along the soft, near-downy fur of his chest and neck. She did not understand his fear of repulsion- his fur was a beautiful thing, tawny colours of barred geometrical stripes, paler on his undercarriage and more sensitive areas.

He held her, he loved her, and she filled him with the impossible joy of acceptance.

And oh, how happy she was, to know that, for once, he needed her as much as she needed him..


	218. Turn

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black, who gives me such strange requests.

Aizen x Hougyoku x Rukia

**Turn**

The Hougyoku could take your inner most desires and distort them, could break them down and build them up again. But you should always be careful what you wish for, shouldn't you, for the person that you think is in control actually very rarely is.

Who is the master here?

The problem with humans, and shinigami, and hollows, the Hougyoku knew, was that what they wanted changed all too often, and sometimes they didn't even know what their deepest wish was. Aizen loved it, loved it enough to wish that it would become part of him, but he didn't know what else he craved for, so repressed was the desire by the needs of ruling, planning, plotting; by the constant and oppressing thought of domination.

A little shinigami girl: she reminded him a little of Hinamori, but she had a spark that he had never seen in his former-Lieutenant. The Hougyoku turned on him, and gave him what he desired. White limbs stretched out underneath him, shadows in the hollows of cheekbones and collarbones and the jut of her hip; head tilted back so he did not have to see her eyes as she writhed underneath him, tight and taut and completely aching with need.

When Rukia woke she didn't understand what had called her here, just that there had been a throbbing deep in her that had told her that all she wanted would be waiting for her. And what did she want, so deeply? Only someone to fill her, to make her feel if only for a moment, that she were whole.

The Hougyoku thrummed between them in happy ecstasy, knowing that it had done well and allowing their arousal and pleasure to wash through its eerie flame.


	219. Sarcasm

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Sun-Sun and Karin

**Sarcasm**

"My name is Sun-Sun."

"What, seriously?"

The woman turned to look at Karin, obviously affronted by the rude and unmannerly question. She raised an eyebrow at the girl, who was about half her height and wearing a cap.

"No, it's not my real name. I am breaking it in for a friend. Use your common sense, you moron."

"Yeah, but the problem with common sense is that most people are idiots. The 'common' doesn't tend to be very helpful."

Sun-Sun raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.

"I'm sorry, tell me again, why should I care about what _you_ think of other idiots?"

Karin laughed, loudly.

"You're a cocky bitch, aren't you?"

Sun-Sun was enraged- she didn't know who this upstart was, but she should have learnt some manners years ago.

"How dare you laugh at me!"

"You know what they say- if you find it hard to laugh at yourself, I would be happy to do it for you."

"I have to say, every time I look at you I get a fierce desire to be somewhere else."

"How strange, I was just thinking that sometimes I need what only you can provide: your absence."

"Tell me, little girl, have you ever raised a blade to someone? Because I have, and I know exactly how to cause you pain."

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure. I'll keep an eye out for yours, if you want- there can't be many people with a name as stupid as yours."

Karin resisted the urge to stick her tongue out and turned away at that final quip, delivered in her normal, dead-panned tone.

"Well, I've had a perfectly wonderful meeting, but this wasn't it. I really do have to dash- any longer with you and I'll feel quite ill."

"It's been a catastrophic success, hasn't it?"

"Indeed."

"See you in hell."


	220. Frog

Rukia and Yachiru

**Frog**

She stared down at the paper. It had a drawing on it that looked a little bit like one of her rabbits, but the eyes were bulgy and it didn't have ears. It was coloured in green, the crayon going over the lines, and it had a pink bow balanced on top of its head. To the untrained eye it looked like a scribbled mess of colour and pencil mixed together into some kind of blob.

Rukia looked down at Yachiru, who had just handed it to her, then back to the paper, smiling.

"It's a lovely frog, Yachiru. Just lovely."

Rukia did think it was charming, though she couldn't for the life of her work out why the lilly-pad it was sitting on was coloured in a bright red. The little girl grinned up at her.

"Do you like the blood?"


	221. Conscious

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Soi Fon x Isane

**Conscious**

Soi Fon was a Captain, was a brilliant fighter and a strong ally. She was known throughout the Soul Society as one of the ones you really shouldn't press. She was fierce and independent, needed no help and ran a tightly organised and meticulously arranged division; she was one of the most reliable people in the Gotei as far as the Captain-Commander was concerned, even if she did still have too much loyalty to that wayward former-Captain of hers.

Isane was one of the most talented healers to have recently emerged from the Fourth Division, second only to Captain Unohana in her skill and knowledge. She was adaptable and though she appeared flustered sometimes when needs pressed she calmed into an authoritative force of will, ready to do anything to save her patient, to do whatever job had been assigned to her. People liked her for the same reasons that they liked Unohana: she was steadfast, she was trustworthy.

Both were powerful shinigami in their own right, though perhaps for different reasons and in different forms, but both were held back by one extreme limitation.

Isane and Soi Fon were both self-conscious to the point of embarrassment: neither were willing to admit to any emotion, neither could quite look strangers in the eye. They took it for shyness from Isane and arrogance from Soi Fon, and the only people to ever see it for anything other than that were the two benevolent Captains that had trained them, and each other.

In Soi Fon, Isane could see everything that she wanted to be: the Captain had the will and the nerve to attack anything that she disagreed with. People respected her, people knew her, people remembered that she was not to be trifled with. Such things Isane was lacking, but Soi Fon looked at her and thought only of what kindness and sweetness she had, only that she was quite lovely through and through, something that she herself envied.

Both were entirely conscious of their own flaws, of what made them less, but they could see the good parts of each other, and that, perhaps, was what they needed: someone else to remind them of what was good about themselves.


	222. Frame

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Tousen x Orihime

**Frame**

He stood framed in the doorway, the ghost of an impossible smile on his face. She knew that he could not see her, but somehow it seemed that he must be able to do so- how could someone stand with such a presence and such a stillness of self without being able to see what was in front of him?

Framed by the doorway, framed by the madness- just as Ulquiorra was stillness in the chaos, he was peace in the insanity- because there was no peace around Ulquiorra's quiet gravity, only a frenzy compressed so hard into immobility that it made him seem unreal.

But there was nothing unreal about Kaname.

Every movement of his held a liquid grace, a smoothness that she could only aspire to imitate. It was intimidating, true enough, but it was also captivating, and she could barely tear her eyes away as he left the doorway and walked towards her, like a great caged beast, prowling.

He might have eaten her alive, the way that his body moved, but when he drew level to her her she pulled his visor from his face and saw the pale milky glass of his blinded eyes, and could feel only an exquisite pity, tangled around her arousal; so much feeling, enough to make her reach for him.

She expected the teeth and force of a beast, but was met with a tender gentleness that took her breath away.

She kissed his eyelids, and realised that it was she, here, who would be predator.


	223. Despise

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black, but sort of changed- thank you, and sorry.

Manipulated Ichigo x Aaroniero, one-sided Hollow-Ichigo x Ichigo

**Despise**

It wasn't the same face, not really- he understood why so many people had commented on the similarities between him and Kaien, but they were not identical. He was sure that his face had never twisted into such malicious glee, but then, he supposed that that wasn't Kaien really, was it? He might look enough like him to fool any who had known him, but Ichigo knew that the body- though it mimicked every scar and every line of muscle- was not the truth.

And he didn't look like Ichigo.

No, not the same face, but close enough so that he _could_ see himself in there, in the cheekbones and the smile and that determined glint in his eyes when he was pushing Ichigo down, stripping him of his clothes.

Not so identical that he could despise Aaroniero for these sick, illicit trysts- only himself.

A body too close to his own to not make him think of his own in return- and the laughing, mocking voice of his inner hollow ridiculed him his own narcissistic tendencies, and danced on the surface whenever Ichigo was with the Espada, different colours bleeding into Ichigo's eyes and joints of bone showing through the skin more than they normally would.

The hollow enjoyed how messed up it was, his own narcissism being what had influenced Ichigo to begin with.

The hollow looked out through Ichigo's eyes, down at the similar, writhing body underneath him. He could not feel guilt at having subconsciously prompted Ichigo to this scenario- after all, seeing an almost-Ichigo groaning at his touches was the closest he would ever have to really feeling his King.


	224. Hat

(Perhaps a predictable title- I apologise)

Kisuke x Ichigo

**Hat**

Ichigo leant over, and took his hat off his head.

The world imploded.

No, it didn't, that was a lie, but Kisuke nearly did.$$

"What are you doing?"

"I want to see you."

"You see me every day""

"Without the annoying shadow on your eyes."

"There, you've seen it. Now, can I have my hat back?"

"Only if you kiss me first."

"After you stole my hat? Like I'd ever associate with a criminal!"

"Kisuke, you _are_ a criminal."

"Technicalities, technicalities. Besides, you know you like it."

"Do you want it or not?"

Kisuke's smile was practically illegal.

"I want _you_ more."


	225. Endless

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you thank you thank you!

Halibel x Sun-Sun x Mila-Rose x Apache

**Endless**

Time no longer seemed to matter, to be real- the nights were endless and then over in a second. Time stopped and started with illogical haste and with no necessity or purpose, except perhaps to irritate and please them with its tenuous hold.

Sometimes it made them want to scream; sometimes it made them want to run.

But when their mistress came to them the annoyance faded away: all that was left was the heat of linked limbs and arousal, the slick of sweat on skin that varied in shade from soft browns to cold and flawless white; three of them lay in a heaped pile of bodies, though the fourth always stood slightly apart and left before any of them woke up.

Their bones felt so fragile that they might break, though they knew that they were strong.

And when they did rise from their bed, they never asked why she would not stay the night, though they all wondered, and wished that she would. Their frustration at it leaked out into their relationship, and they bit at each other and verbally sparred to try and cover it up. That was always the way of things between them- unspoken words coming out into being outwardly petty, argumentative, brash.

Halibel would watch them from her hooded gaze.

Three pairs of eyes followed her, their goddess, into battle, lingering on her skin and wondering if someone else, this time, was going to see the white of her bone, if she was going to pull down that long, strangling zip and bare her masked lower face to the world. It was that part that she always kept hidden, except when she was with them, although she never allowed any of them to touch it.

That was Halibel all over, though- always just a little too far away for them to reach her.


	226. Any

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Gin x Byakuya

**Any**

"Why do you always smile?"

"Why do you never?"

White limbs, kissed by sun or moonlight depending on convenience and what time the sun was due to set that day. White sheets, clean and bland and standard issue for the shinigami: always in quarters, never in the family mansion, because how could they had explained that away? They would see white as they came, too. They would try and only see it afterwards, as well, as their minds wandered afterwards, trying to ignore the inevitable moment when they would look at each other, when they would incur speech, dreaded conversation.

"Is there any part of your actions that you mean?"

"Is there anything behind that pretty face of yours?"

Black nights, dark enough to hide a man slipping from the quarters of a division that isn't his own. Even if they bare limbs in the light of day, they always part at night, picking up the black uniforms that they scattered on the floor in their haste. Black shadows around the door, threatening. He had to leave soon, so he wouldn't be discovered. He had to be careful when he left, for the same reasons. He had to stay out of the light.

"Do you ever say anything sincere?"

"Do you?"

The feeling of the jut of a white bone, hip or chin or rib or elbow. Their skin is too thin, perhaps, they both look a little wasted despite the inevitable muscle that comes from daily training. Both command great presence, yet naked would look so frail but for the dignified expression and the eerie smile. White teeth, too, nipping but never hard enough to make red marks, because that would make it real, if they left indication. White noise in their ears afterwards.

"Is there any part of you that is real?"

"Are you real at all?"

Black looks, never given, pent up. They both have their reasons for this, though neither will ever express them. Byakuya asks increasingly insistent questions that he doesn't even want to know the answer to, Gin replies with increasingly irritating answers that mean nothing. There are no black books. Neither has an alternative to this. It makes their black intentions worse, for that. Is there affection? They do not know. They are blinded by colour. They try not to think.

"Is there any part of me that you care for?"

"Do you love me?"

There is no answer. White moonlight cleaves the black room. Neither want an answer. Neither knows it.

One man picks up his uniform and leaves, slipping the white haori over the black robes without second thought.


	227. Wake

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Rukia x Cirucci

**Wake**

A different decision made; a different sequence of events. Uryuu, instead of taking one corridor, took a different one, and in the wake of his decision, Rukia turned away from the passage that would have lead her to renewed heartbreak, to the face of a man that still plagued her with an unforgivable guilt.

Instead, she walked unknowingly to the most beautiful woman that she had ever seen in her life.

She wasn't quite sure what had happened, even now: all she could remember was the look on Cirucci's face as she had caught sight of the small, pale shinigami- not at all what she had been expecting, as floored by the sight as Rukia was.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Rukia Kuchiki. I'm here to kill you, arrancar."

Love at first sight? Probably not, but there was much pent up anger and grief and frustration in both of their eyes, almost as if they had once been a whole, and nothing seemed more natural than to lay down their weapons and to press mouths ravenous with need together, as if they could consume each other and reunite that harmony of emotion, as if they could make their sorrow less just by _being_.

Hands that had never known a talent like this found a rhythm and a movement, found the right way to made each other arch and moan.

But then it was over, two shivering bodies on a stone floor, clothes a make-shift bed that could never last the night.

Cirucci got to her feet first; she was the stronger of the two, and she had already realised that she was going to have to kill this girl. Rukia soon followed, and she had the decency to clothe herself as they readied for battle. Cirucci was glad of it: the only reason that she herself had not was because she knew that it would be painful to see the flesh that she had once touched, tasted, the same flesh now taut with tense muscle, ready to kill.

Rukia managed it, in the end. She realised, as she stared down at the naked corpse, blood already beginning to slow, that she had never even known her name.

She found that she didn't really care.


	228. Moping

Tesla x Nnoitra

**Moping**

It was an act of charity that lead Nnoitra to call Tesla to him.

An act of charity. Nothing more.

He was growing sick and tired of the way that his fraccion would simply follow him around, attempting to get attention and respect in the eyes of the Espada who commanded him. He always looked on the verge of tears. A kicked puppy look.

The arrancar bored him, with his incessant moping and sad expression.

So one day Nnoitra beckoned him into his quarters, and Tesla followed him, blinking nervously at him, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Nnoitra stared at him predatorily, and commanded him to strip.

The arrancar's face lit up, because even though he knew it was hardly altruistic, it was more than he had ever hoped to receive.


	229. Human

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Yumichika x Nnoitra

**Human**

"Just stay quiet, would you?"

Then there was a finger on his mouth, to silence him. He tried to bite it, but the action only allowed it to slip between his lips, force of two crooked knuckles in his mouth preventing him from biting them off.

"Not particularly beautiful, either."

A hand against the eye-patch, fingers skimming underneath, probing his hollow hole and making him shudder. His back arched in the strange, greenish-blue glow, and touched his chest against the other's.

"But serviceable enough."

A smirk- serviceable enough for what, he wished to ask, but that smirk stilled his tongue and he substituted it only with a glare.

"Not human enough, creature, to satisfy me."

A barking laugh emanated from around the fingers, muffled but unimpressed.

"You are hardly human, shinigami."

"It is the humans who are alike to us, and there are those amongst us who are beautiful. Not, perhaps, as well as I am, but you, you have too much white, too much cold, too much… bone."

A wink, a bite on the lip.

"Careful, shinigami. You would be easy to kill."

A ringing laugh.

"Can't you see the plant, Espada? You are ensnared. This is my zanpakuto's special ability. You should be glad we're alone, or else you would never have got to see it."

A sneering growl in response as Nnoitra strained against the bonds that had tight hold on him, internally cursing at his poor luck to run into this underhand shinigami who kept _touching_ him in that way.

"You will never conquer me."

He stared longingly at Santa Teresa, stuck into the sand a distance away. If only he could reach her, then things might start to swing back his way. He felt weak, weakened, only sure resolve keeping him from crumbling.

"Oh, foolish, foolish creature… I already have."

His back arched, once more, as those clever hands found their way underneath his uniform. His next words were spat around those fingers and sudden aching feel of arousal.

"Bastard!"


	230. Wave

For cy-grl, who said in a review "Maybe Gin can come back to SS as well? *hint hint*"

Well…

Gin, Matsumoto, Kira, Yamamoto, etc

**Wave**

There are days when things happen that you can't predict, days when nothing goes the way you planned. Then, there are days when everything in the world stops making any freakin' sense at all. The day that Gin Ichimaru returned to the Soul Society after his apparent defect with seireitei-public-enemy-number-one Aizen, was the latter sort of day. Needless to say, when faced with this, things were a bit… hectic. A bit confused. A bit undecided.

Well, really, everyone was just wondering what the fuck was going on.

Mainly, because no one had noticed him return. It was only when his former Lieutenant Kira saw that the door to the Captain's office of his division was open that anyone even knew that someone had been inside it. No-one had gone in there since the official investigation had ended when people had become too focused on training for the inevitable war that would follow. Kira expected a member of his division, trying to find some sort of paperwork- a fourth division shinigami, come to clean, perhaps.

What he hadn't expected, upon opening the door, was to see his former-Captain standing there.

Watering his plants.

With his Captain's haori on.

As if he'd never been away.

"Ne, Izuru-chan, you let my spider plant die! You knew I was partial to it. How cruel of you."

It took him a moment to wonder if this was a hallucination. Brought on by too much overtime and too little sleep, maybe. Then the thought struck him that maybe Gin had never left at all- it was all just some elaborate dream he had had, the sort that make you wonder the next morning if it were true or not.

Gin snapped his fingers close to Kira's eyes, bringing him back to reality. Or, rather, that small point of reality an inch from his nose where Gin's hand was. My, this was a strange dream.

"Izuru-chan, maybe you'd better go and lie down?"

With a dumb nod, Kira slumped down onto the small futon in the corner of the room that Ichimaru had moved into his office years back.

"I'm off now, Izuru-chan! I'll see you in a little while!"

The door clicked shut. Seconds tapped past. Izuru sat bolt upright on the futon.

"What the hell?"

Outside, Gin had found himself on the wrong end of a zanpakuto. Hands comically in the air, the blade tickled the underside of his chin as he smiled unwaveringly at Matsumoto, whose wide eyes looked just a little manic. Unlike Kira, who'd been floored at the sight of Ichimaru, she had been stuck with anger.

"What are you doing here, Gin?"

"I was walking, Ran."

"That's not what I fucking meant! Why did you come back?"

"Well, I missed the uniforms. I can't pull of white all that well, you know. And I missed Izuru-chan- the arrancar aren't much fun, and Aizen is always busy and Tousen just talks about justice a lot, and that's pretty boring. And I missed going out drinking with you and I missed the old man's bossy voice at meetings a-"

"If you don't give me a straight answer, so help me God, I will drag you down to the twelfth division and give you to Kurotsuchi myself! I'll do it! So help me God, I'll do it!"

Gin lowered his hands, his smile fading a little.

"I just came home, Ran. What's wrong with that?"

She spluttered. He tipped a finger to his chin.

"I suppose I could have come waving a white flag…"

"As if that would have made it any better!"

To her disgust, she saw her zanpakuto lower a little, as if she meant to let it go. To make up for the momentary weakness, she pressed it even closer, so that it dented the skin.

"Ichimaru!"

"Oh look, the Captain-Commander is here!"

Indeed he was, flanked by his lieutenant and a number of the Captains. They had been summoned from their weekly meeting at word of the disturbance. From his vantage point, Gin could see Kuchiki, looking like that stick up his ass hadn't moved at all, and Zaraki, who looked like he was trying to stifle laughter. Ukitake looked concerned, and Hitsugaya looked ready to flay him alive. He supposed he could sort of understand that reaction.

Gin hmm-ed under his breath. Maybe the white flag would have been a good idea…


	231. Failed

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Chizuru x Soifon

**Failed**

It was a failed mission.

Infiltrate Karakura High. Attach visual link equipment to appropriate places. Leave.

It should have been simple. She only took the mission herself because it was a chance to go to Karakura, to see Yoruichi, if only for a brief conversation before necessity demanded that she go to the school and put up the Twelfth division's latest technology. It needed a trail run in the living world, and it made sense to put it where they could keep an eye on those former-ryoga. Just in case.

Let no one see you. Speak to no one. Leave no trace.

The Gotei were still too nervous about their shinigami getting close to humans. Those relationships seemed to complicate things.

The sun was setting. The rooms of the should-have-been-deserted classroom were blazing orange.

Soifon landed, silently, and looked around her. According to the detailed reports they had, Kurosaki's classroom was the fourth on this corridor.

All was still.

The lockers cast elongated shadows on the floor.

She rubbed her forehead, patting her pocket to make sure she hadn't inadvertently lost the small case that held the microscopic cameras.

"Who the hell are you?"

She spun on her heel. Where had that come from?

A girl stepped out through a door, and Soifon scowled. She had been remiss. Was it the distraction of Yoruichi's news that had done it? Was she slipping? The girl had no spiritual power to mention of, but she was glaring across as Soifon as if she was Captain-class or higher.

The dying sunlight set her hair on fire.

The girl's face softened.

"Hey, you're pretty cute. Are you looking for Ichigo?"

Soifon's eyes narrowed. So, she was one of Kurosaki's friends- one of the ones who had been left behind, it seemed. One of the ones Aizen terrified, perhaps?

Wait. Cute?

Soifon straightened her shoulders and offered a tight nod to the girl.

"You can call me Chizuru. What's your name?"

Soifon turned her back on her, and moved with a frightening speed down to the classroom. To her dissatisfaction, Chizuru followed her. The room was getting darker. Barely being able to resist, she shot a question over her shoulder.

"Why are you still here? It was my understanding that this school should be finished for the day."

The girl looked shifty for a moment, before shrugging.

"Oh, I had things to do. You know."

Soifon didn't, but she didn't say anything.

"Say, you wanna grab a drink when you're done with this?"

An arm, hooked through the crook of her elbow. She turned, intent to say no, but…

Fire, in that hair. Burning.

A silent nod.

She could linger in Karakura a little longer.


	232. Shorts

Toushiro

**Shorts**

He glared down at pile of clothes placed neatly in front of him.

"I am not wearing those."

The carrier blinked.

"I was just sent to deliver them Captain. You'll need to take it up with the Captain-Commander."

"But I'm not wearing them!"

"Um… May I ask why?"

He picked up the grey fabric item.

"Shorts? I'm not wearing fucking shorts!"

"… Why not?"

"I'm not a child!"

"But I was told that this was what young students wear in-"

"Young? Young?"

The carrier blinked, and took a step towards the door.

He figured if he backed out slowly, then the Captain might keep ranting and not notice that he had gone.


	233. Born

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Hichigo x Momo

**Born**

He had slipped in through the cracks of her sorrow, and now she didn't know how to get rid of him. They (whatever sick and strange thing 'they' were) had been born from sorrow, and had been born from her own anger and frustration at the fact that she hadn't been good enough, that she never would be good enough.

He had been attracted to her weakness.

He had _always_ been attracted to weakness, in the face of his own towards his indomitable King.

And she knew it was wrong, so wrong, too wrong; she knew that he was dangerous and cruel and that no one would ever understand, but his whiteness had reminded her of what Aizen must have seen in Hueco Mundo: she could look at him and pretend that he, too, had been formed by that royal and powerful hand.

Oh, that hand that she had longed to be touched by.

"You can trust me, you know," he whispered, and it was a lie, but she didn't mind.

As long as he didn't look her in the eyes, she didn't mind.


	234. Chance

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Ichigo x Soifon, Yoruichi in the background

**Chance**

She didn't like people. Well, not many people, anyway: there were some that had there moments, she had to admit. But most of them were idiots, most of the time. She didn't really socialise, didn't talk to people outside of giving orders to her subordinates and training the people in her division and writing long and rambling letters (some to herself, some to her former Captain, all of them to be promptly burnt with an efficient kido spell that left no trace whatsoever, not even ashes).

But he…

Well, he came with _her_ recommendation, and there wasn't much higher an honour than that, as far as Soifon was concerned. So, she had thought, why not give him a chance? Just one, to prove himself.

She shared something with him. Even before she had seen him, before she had met him, talked to him- they were pupils of the goddess, he and her each, at different times. That meant something, to Soifon. If _she_ had decided that Ichigo was worth her time and effort, then he must be worth it to Soifon, too.

So, she had given it a try, and to her surprise, she had actually quite liked him.

They had sparred, first off. She had challenged him in pretence of course, saying that she wanted to have a try where so many other Captains had failed. It was really just an opportunity to meet him, but he had agreed to a 'friendly', as he called it, though the idea of friendly fighting was an alien notion to her. She knew training. She knew battle. She didn't understand this.

He didn't talk too much. He was indomitably strong. His eyes were warm.

Almost too warm, considering he didn't know her all that well.

He told her later that Yoruichi had told him a bit about her, that he had seen her around, that she reminded him in a strange way of a friend he had had since he was very young, but she didn't know anything about that right then.

All she knew was that, at the end of the spar, he had leant down to press a kiss (slightly damp, from their sweat beading on their upper lips) to her mouth, and she hadn't felt much of an inclination to kill him. Or even to push him away.

In fact, she leant right into it.


	235. Ceiling

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Orihime x Yumichika

**Ceiling**

The art of destroying kitchens was a surprising complex one to perfect.

Yumichika, blissfully unaware of the culinary hell he was about to be subjected to, leant completely naked against the kitchen counter, perfectly attentive to the fact that Orihime was a blushing and nervous wreck around his unabashed nudity and his habit of jutting his hips forward when he stood around. He in turn was carefully watching the mound of Orihime's breasts underneath her dressing gown, which he knew from careful and deliberate exploration last night were quite perfect. Beautiful, even.

That was when a pan boiled over.

The hiss and spit of water made Orihime jump, jabbing the blender on as she held on to the base as she struggled to fit the lid on top. Said lid flew into the air under the impact of the food and blades inside, so half-blended carrot mush followed the lid on its high and arching journey across the kitchen.

Unfortunately, it was halted: where the lid had bounced off the ceiling, the carrot-mush stuck.

Ominously.

Yumichika stared at it.

How on earth did she get the carrots to _that_ sort of consistency? How was that even possible? _Was_ that even possible?

Orihime ran to the pan, underneath the wobbling pile of mush that suspended itself precariously from the magnolia paint (she could really do with redecorating, Yumichika's inner-bitch monologue-d as he stared, transfixed at the _thing_). His stare was broken by her yelp of distress as the frying pan set on fire just as she had got the saucepan off the hob.

He hoped to providence that this dish was meant to be flambéed.

He was pretty sure that you couldn't flambé scrambled eggs. Even if they were, as she had so charmingly told him, 'scrambled-eggs-a-la-Inoue'.

Hang on a minute.

Why did she need a saucepan for scrambled eggs? Why did she need carrots? _Why in hell did she need a blender?_

"Ah, would you care for my help? I coul-"

"No, no! It's fine, really! I just need to turn the heat off!"

The saucepan, dropped in the sink with a loud clatter that hurt his head (still, you couldn't fault her neatness), was still bubbling, even though it was off the heat. Yumichika tried to ignore the great smoke stain up the back of the wall behind the hob. He was pretty sure that wasn't a normal kitchen-accessory to cooking.

Maybe they should just order in? Even if it might play havoc with his skin.

The mush, finally giving in to the laws of gravity and common sense, came topping down, landing with a fortuitous flop in the frying pan that Orihime had just extracted from its now-off ring.

They both stared at it for a moment. The silence was absolute but for the drip of a gelatinous orange liquid that still lingered on the paintwork, and the slow hissing of the hot pan in the sink.

Yumichika rolled his eyes.

She was _really_ lucky she was pretty.


	236. Reports

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Yamamoto and Unohana

**Reports**

Reports never brought good news.

They could remember a time when the shinigami divisions were new and still trying to iron out the creases of a society that put the most physically powerful in a position of superiority. They could remember the highs and the lows, the golden days and the moments they had wished would last forever, and they could remember the smell of blood and the death tolls and a million funerals, a million more graves to those who had never been recovered. They were the longest serving officers in the Gotei 13, the foundations of the pillars that kept the sky standing high, and they had learnt over a long and painful time that the price of victory was rarely worth the battle.

And yet, the battle was never avoidable.

They had fought many wars with many races. They had obliterated some and ruined others, and some had surrendered and died out by themselves.

They ordered a service that protected the humans, although sometimes, in the face of the results of shinigami who had fallen on the wrong side of an attacking hollow, they struggled to remember quite when it had become so important to do such a thing, and why they were carrying on with it at all.

Sometimes Unohana went home and washed her hands for hours, convinced she could still feel blood on her skin.

Sometimes Yamamoto wondered what it would be like to leave, and pretend it was all nothing to do with him at all.

Sometimes they despaired. Sometimes they hoped, too.

Because, even though it looked terrible at times, there were moments when it all seemed to fall into place. When a soul was saved without casualty, when all the Captains were loyal to the Soul Society, when all they had to worry about were hollows, not the Quincy or the Arrancar or humans with special powers or, worse, about internal corruption and betrayal. Those times when Unohana knew that all her patients were healthy, when bodies weren't lying in the belly of her zanpakuto; when Yamamoto looked across at the assembled troops under his command and knew that he wasn't sending them out to battle when they weren't ready, when the hope of their survival was not slim chance to none.

So when reports came and they brought bad news, of a battle lost or a new enemy or a listed number of the dead, they both knew that all they were allowed was a brief sigh, before returning to the task at hand and airing out additional rooms in the Fourth Division wards and working out the most effective battle strategies.

Between them, they ran the Gotei divisions.

Between them, they watched over an army.

And even though sometimes it seemed like the Captain-Commander ordered them carelessly, without thought to their lives, he made every choice with great deliberation and concern. Even though sometimes it seemed like Unohana didn't try hard enough, to the relatives of the deceased, she put everything she had into each patient, and made her subordinates do the same.

We all know, those with the most power have the greatest responsibility to those they command. What we forget, is how much that responsibility can hurt, when they are handed a report from a bruised lower seat, and they are faced, once more, with the inevitable.


	237. Photograph

I love Isshin. He needs more love.

Ichigo and Isshin

**Photograph**

He looked at the photograph, holding it by the plain frame with both of his hands. He could remember the day that he bought this frame, though he couldn't remember why it had seemed to important to him, at the time, to have this picture where he could see it. Misaki had laughed at him for doing it, asking him why he was so concerned when all he had to do was roll over in bed to look at her? Now, all his wife could do was stare back at him from the frame, her eyes smiling behind the glass. He wished she was still there to smile at him like that.

A little figure crept around the doorway, and he smiled at his young son. Tears had stained his cheeks, his eyes were red, and he stared at his father, chin wobbling. He was still wearing the clothes that he had worn for the funeral.

His father opened his arms, and Ichigo ran over to be enveloped in the hug.

Isshin sighed and held back the tears.

He had to be both mother and father for his children now. He closed his eyes, and prayed he was up to the challenge.


	238. Arch

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Grimmjow x Ulquiorra

**Arch**

The arch of his back was long and white and quite beautiful, and it blended in against the walls. His skin was flawless, and here there were no obvious seams as to where to where those faultless blocks met to form impenetrable defences. But for those tell-tale streaks of green his body might have been nothing more than shadows moving against the white rock, a trick of the light. Ulquiorra is no illusion though, and neither is the body moving in and out of him: that shock of blue, hard lines of muscle, darker skin- no one could have mistaken him for anything other than solid reality, which is what he is.

And Ulquiorra? He is real, but there is a part of him that is not, a part of him that still stares into some place that no one else can see, as if he lives with one foot in this world, one foot in another: you can see it in the darkness of his eyes, an absence of more than just emotion, an absence of _self_- sometimes, he is just literally not there. Grimmjow longs to drag Ulquiorra back from there, from that place of impermeable darkness and infinite falling, kicking and screaming if he could (not that the Cuatro would ever make such a ruckus of emotion). Grimmjow knows if he could just get there, to that impossible place, then he would own Ulquiorra, body and soul.

But it is unfeasible.

It drives Grimmjow crazy, looking into those eyes, because he knows that no matter what he does, he'll never be able to get to that place, and he'll never be able to draw Ulquiorra back from it, either.

Sometimes what we think we love, we don't, but they had never had any pretence of love between them to begin with, so there was no disappointment.

Only anger from one, displacement from another.

Grimmjow knows that the moment he hears Ulquiorra's breath hitch, or a whine or moan come from those slightly parted, ever-cold lips, he will have won.

He knows it'll never happen, too.


	239. Problems

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Rukia x Kazeshini

_What I want I take,  
__What I don't I break  
_ACDC

**Problems**

She was pretty sure that this constituted a serious problem.

Really, no word of a lie.

It was impossible to explain, and even worse to try and justify, but over and over again she seemed to find herself attracted, in many ways, to… well, to dangerous people. Those that she cared about, those that she loved- all those relationships were a double edged blade.

Her friends, for instance. When she had first noticed Renji and his gang of friends, it should have been too dangerous for her to approach them, a lone kid in the Rukongai existence of child street gangs and territorial rivalry. She'd done it anyway. Befriending Orihime, that was stupid of her- she'd known at the time that the memories would only hurt her, when she was forced to leave. Ichigo was a magnet for danger, drawing it towards him inexplicably and unfortunately. Her brother, as well. She loved him dearly, had done from the beginning, though she hadn't wanted to. There was something so tense about him, like a cat waiting to pounce, even though he moved with an almost liquid grace that never betrayed that strain: from the start she could see that he could never welcome her. Kaien. She had loved him, even knowing that loving him would only ever bring her heartbreak.

But he- well, he was danger of a different kind.

He wouldn't just hurt her. He'd rip her to shreds, if he felt inclined to do so. He wouldn't care.

And yet, those limbs, a black and deep as vast eternity, would look so good next to her own moon-kissed skin, pale and silvery and faintly ethereal. The red of his eyes made her want to throw herself upon his limited mercy, and the brush of the swing of his hair never failed to make her shudder.

Beautiful. Problematic.

Not in the least because, as a zanpakuto spirit, she knew that it was unlikely she would ever see him again other than this one night, unless he felt inclined to do so.

And, knowing Kazeshini, that wasn't likely at all.


	240. Hide

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Katen Kyoukotsu x Minazuki

For those who haven't seen the recent anime filler arc, Katen Kyoukotsu takes two forms, one of a woman and one of a girl.

**Hide**

"Well, I must say, this is an interesting situation, isn't it?"

The older form of Katen Kyoukotsu sat on a conveniently flat rock with one ankle crossed over the other, her legs turned to the side. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap across her voluminous robe. She could for all the world have been sat at court, watching noble squabbles with an amused eye. Instead, she was in a cave, deep below the surface. It was cool enough down here to stand the hairs on the back of your neck on end, but they were spirits, and so did not chill.

From behind her, she could feel a feather-light touch on her hair, almost dancing in its lightness as it moved up to land on the skull-and-gold headdress that weighed down on her. The person behind her was enshrouded with a sense of mystery that often perplexed her- they didn't even know what gender the ambiguous spirit was.

"What is your opinion on our Captains? They're both composed enough, compared to some, are they not?"

She couldn't see Minazuki from where she was, and the lighting was so dim in the cave she wasn't sure what details she would have been able to pick out even if she had. The green hood that the spirit wore concealed all of her features, reams of orderly bandages disguising the shape of whatever type of body that lay underneath. Katen Kyoukotsu had often wondered about it, even before they had been offered their own released bodies. In the Captains meetings, often without their wielders being aware, the zanpakuto had spoken, argued, questioned. Minakuzi, though, had always been silent.

She still hadn't heard the sound of his or her voice.

"I don't think they'll react too badly."

That hand caressed down the side of her cheek, under her chin. Minazuki was characteristically, horrendously, achingly silent. It wasn't even a telling quiet.

Nimble and cool finger-tips touched the silken edge of the ribbon that laced around her neck, the ribbon the colour of blood, like a decorative slit throat to match the skulls. That hand pulled at the bow with a singular, graceful movement so that it fell apart, lying around her throat instead almost like a necklace. It touched the bare skin of her chest, and fluttered there a moment until it rested.

"Besides, we'll see them soon enough, wont we?

She felt cold lips against the back of her neck, and sighed.

She knew that the moment she turned around, that hood would be back in place again.

Face in shadow. Mystery immaculate.


	241. Delay

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you. Sorry, this one wandered off pairing…

Kyouraku x Ukitake, Nanao

**Delay**

Nanao prided herself on the efficiency of her paperwork and her organisational skills. So, after a while, she began to write down her numerous complaints about delays in her outbox and the disruption in her division in formal reports, and then forward them to the thirteenth division. It was only fair, after all: it was _their_ Captain that was letting _her _Captain stay there so much that he now spent more time in _Ukitake's_ office than he did in his own. Maybe this way someone would take notice of her complaints: God knows, if one of the Captains would, it really wouldn't be her own.

All the more work had fallen onto Nanao's desk as a result of his incompetent desertion. Hopefully, the weight of her complaints would make Ukitake understand exactly how she was feeling.

It had all started about three months ago, when the rumour mill of the Gotei spat out the latest bit of information: that Captain Ukitake had been seen with a lovely woman in the Rukongai. She'd shrugged when the matter was discussed at the SWA meeting, agreeing to ask her Captain about it for them- lord knows why they couldn't have just asked Ukitake straight out: now she wished that she had.

So, she'd asked Kyouraku about it, and he had choked on his lunch before stammering that it must have been some sort of mistake, and that she shouldn't think anything about it, that _of course it wasn't true Nanao-chan how could you possibly think that would be the case because Jyuu-chan wouldn't do that!_

He had come into work the next morning _on time _and had happily told her that it had simply been a visiting cousin of Ukitake's (even though she hadn't asked) all the while looking very smug and self-satisfied, like a man who had finally achieved some much-fantasised and long-term desire. The sort of desire that kept you up at night, sorrowful and heated with what you couldn't have, couldn't touch- the sort of desires that made you wish you could be another person, could _forget_ the other person.

Not that Nanao would know anything about those sort of desires.

Ahem.

And really, she didn't want to know why Shunsui always looked so smug these days on the rare occasions she saw him, she really didn't. There was such a thing as too much information, and that definitely fell within the boundaries. So if Ukitake could just stop hogging her damn Captain for five-fucking-minutes then she could get on with her work without been stopped by things that needed the Captain's signature and his express approval and then she _wouldn't have to think about it at all._

It took a week for the pile up of complaints to get a result.

Unfortunately, the result was a hastily scrawled note from her Captain.

_Nanao-chan,  
__Surely by know you've learnt to forge my signature, ne?  
__S xx  
__P.S. Jyuu-chan and I have a lot of last time to catch up on! He says I cant stay away forever though, so I'll tell you all about it when I get back, okay?_

That day, Nanao's subordinates learnt the true meaning of angry efficiency as more paperwork was sent out in a fit of retributive-penmanship than had been outboxed in the whole of the previous month.

When Shunsui did return, he was to find that every time he tried to tell his Nanao-chan what a lovely kisser Jyuu-chan was, and how it felt to have sex on a desk in the office, she stuck a pen in his eye.

He thought it was rather cute, her prudish reaction, and sent a note to Jyuushiro to tell him just that.

Jyuushiro, on hearing what Shunsui had been trying to tell Nanao, was rightfully mortified.

But, at least, not quite as much as Nanao herself.


	242. Hallway

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Yoruichi x Toushiro x Rangiku

**Hallway**

Some jokes die in time.

This one didn't.

Groping him in the hallway had never stopped being fun. Rangiku would slide up behind him and grab his ass, and when he span on his heel to yell at her Yoruichi would come up behind him faster than anyone could see and do exactly the same. His face would blush the most delightful shade of red, part in anger and part in embarrassment, and they just loved how flustered he was, turning between the two guilty women and trying to remain dignified despite their laughing attempts at apologies that never ever sounded even slightly sincere.

It was just _too_ hilarious. The fact that it was always in a hallway, as well, where people walked up and down and sometimes saw their Captain so demeaned just made it even more priceless.

Toushiro, needless to say, hated it, hated the way that when his voice was growing hoarse from yelling they would grab him in a double-way hug and squash each cheek into an improbable cleavage, because even though he was getting taller (he checked, in secret, marking where he stood each year against the corner of a wall in his Captain's quarters) he still wasn't tall enough to escape that deadly embrace.

He would sputter, and pull away, and glare at them some more before hurrying away, trying to preserve at least a little bit of his pride.

He'd make them pay, the day he was tall enough, he swore.

Because he hated it. Really, he did.

(he still left his door unlocked and his window open, in case they felt like slipping in)


	243. Understanding

Urahara Kisuke

**Understanding**

He stared up at the vastness of the sky, a smile on his face and an eager gleam in his eyes.

He felt expressionless today, young, fully of things to do and people to talk to and things to discover, because the world was something of a wonder, and he had only just graduated, and Benihime was thrumming with pleasure at their success at his side and his head was pulsing with adrenaline and the champagne he'd been drinking with his friends.

The world was full of things he had not yet seen, not yet appreciated. There were thousands of things that he had not had a chance to research, comprehend, understand; hundreds of things waiting out there for him to discover and experiment on. His mind was open to every possibility, every option, every thing thought impossible by everyone else but him.

He threw his arms open, more than a little drunk, as if trying to hold the infinity to him, and smiled.

He announced, to that effortless sky, that one day he would understand everything.


	244. Grace

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Starrk x Shuuhei

**Grace**

What he sees, when he looks at the Primera Espada, is not what other people see. Aizen saw just another person to manipulate, to use to his will. Kyouraku had seen an opponent, someone what it was part of his duty to take down. The other Espada had seen a killing machine, someone that none of them were willing to go up against, even in their most rash moments. Even Lilynette had seen only loneliness, only the sadness from before she was made, because it was from that emptiness that she was created, and so it is that chasm that echoes from her own eyes.

But Shuuhei, he sees something else.

Shuuhei sees grace. There is an elegance to every movement he makes that he knows he will never be able to replicate: it is similar to the way he used to watch his Captain reach for something that he could not see, with a steadfastness of motion, each movement a timed and well thought out indication of _calm_. He sees perfect control in the Primera. When Starrk walks, it looks almost indolent, the way he slouches, hands in pockets, face half-scowling, but it is nowhere near as relaxed as it seems. He is constantly on guard, constantly poised. Shuuhei knows why Tousen's movements got to be that way, because he had to cope without a vital sense, but he doesn't understand how Starrk does it. If it is the result of practise, then Shuuhei is concerned, because he knows he will never be able to train to that level of formidable balance and reason.

It's a little intimidating, really.

He uses that same grace when he prowls closer to Shuuhei; though his movements are nothing like a predator until he his too close for it to count, Shuuhei can always see him in that light, as if he were padding even when he were shuffling- he supposes it is lust that does it.

He wonders, sometimes, if anyone else is ever going to see it.

He supposes not.

He figures, it is probably better that way. At least when everyone else sees him as a weapon, as an opponent, as a lonely friend, then no-one will ever try and have him the same way Shuuhei does.

Small mercies, he thinks.


	245. Lucky

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Renji x Tatsuki

**Lucky**

He'd been surrounded by people who could kick his ass, all his life. Seriously. Oh, there were people who he'd defeated. It hadn't been an easy path, to the position he was in now. He had won his fair share of battles, he'd killed his fair share of enemies. You know, the usual.

When he was a kid, the world had knocked him down, time and time again. Maybe all kids felt like that. Maybe it was just the way things were in the Rukongai. Rukia had beaten him, too, when he had met her. In a lot of ways.

Ikkaku. Byakuya. Aizen. Ichigo. That fucking Espada with his freaky little white blob things.

His tattoos keep growing.

So do his scars.

But then, Ikkaku made him stronger. He had trained him up, and so had his Captain, who gave him a goal, as well. Rukia kept him alive through some of the worst of times, and the thought of her had got him through a bunch more. Ichigo reminded him never to get complacent, that anything was possible, and that Espada… well, he was just a freak. He didn't like to think that he counted.

Tatsuki took great pleasure in beating him, too, whenever she could. He was pretty lucky, he guessed, that he had got so used to that sort of thing, because otherwise it would have been a serious dent on his pride. Now, though, because he was who he was he could take it with humour (sort of) when she threw him down in a sparring session, even if it did feel a little emasculating, seeing as how she was half his size and with no spiritual power at all.

And besides, it was okay when she did that. He got a couple more bruises from it (physically and to his pride), but at least she kissed them better for him, afterwards, always with a wry smile and a surprising tenderness.

He sort of liked that part of getting beaten around (though if any of the others had tried to do it they would have got a punch in the face).


	246. Sunrise

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Uryuu x Nemu

**Sunrise**

"Have you ever noticed that you take the romance out of things?"

"Ishida-san, I do not understand this 'romance' concept very well."

Uryuu sighed, and not just at the overly formal name, a habit he had still not cured her of. He shifted a little on the park bench that they were sat on and pushed his glasses up his nose, pointing out to the horizon.

"Well, do you see that sunset?"

She nodded, staring at it now as well, as if she had never noticed it before that moment. Which, he had to concede, might well have been the case. It was not to the interest of factual research or the assimilation of particularly relevant information, as she would put it, after all.

"Were we a different sort of couple, this could be romantic."

"Is it romantic to see the light fade?"

Uryuu shrugged.

"Apparently. Frankly, I've never understood why a sunset is meant to be romantic, so this is probably a bad example. Romantic moments are meant to inspire you with a great evocation of feeling. Sunsets only make me feel a little tired."

Nemu nodded, slowly.

"It seems that you also remove the romance from a situation, Ishida-san."

"I suppose I do."

There was a long silence, whilst Uryuu fought with himself internally for a while before letting his hand slip over to hers, to take hold of it with a grip that was still slightly nervous.

"Ishida-san, is a sunrise romantic? They inspire feelings of joy and intention, do they not?"

Ishida smiled to himself. Trust Nemu, to think of something like that.

"I suppose they are, after all."

"I have never watched a sunrise before, Ishida-san."

Though Nemu's voice was normally monotonous, there was a slight inflection to what she just said that spoke of sadness, and regret. It was very faint, very difficult to notice unless, like Uryuu, you were well acquainted with her, and spent so long looking for a break in that quiet voice.

"Well, if you want, we could set an alarm, so we woke before hand. Then we could watch it together."

She turned to him then, almost smiling just a little.

"Would that be considered romantic?"

He nodded once more, and tightened his grip around her fingers.


	247. Misuse

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Mayuri and Zaraki

**Misuse**

"What's this?"

"You are a cretin. Get out of my division now before I am forced to extract you myself, in a most horrific way. And it is an intestinal tract, moron. Isn't it obvious?"

"Why d'you have it?"

"I'm trying to make sense of the irregularities in our own construction. If we are spiritual beings then how can we bleed, why do we drink? That sort of thing. You wouldn't understand. Now, leave!"

"Fuckin' stupid question, if you ask me. We drink because its good, we bleed because we have blood and we're too fuckin' slow to get out of the way in time. The fuck you need a whole research institution to figure that out for?"

"I told you, you wouldn't understand. Now, leave!"

"Seems like a bit of a waste of your time, doesn't it?"

"No!"

"Bit of a misuse of your budget, really. Mind you, all of ours goes on booze most of the time, and replacing training equipment. The old man says I should get some ink, to sign my name, but booze is better."

"I'm surprised you can even write. And that is just as much a misuse! More so! My research is vital!"

"Hey, what's this?"

"Don't touch that!"

"Can I drink it?"

"NO!"

"Peh, useless then. What would happen if I poured it into this?"

"That's too much, too much! _Stop that right now_!"

Three hours later, a singed but grinning Kenpachi was ordered to use the part of his budget not used to repair training equipment to fund the re-building of the Twelfth Division. He promptly hung sweets on all of said equipment. To his satisfaction, after Yachiru had broken it all in her attempts to get it, there wasn't much left over for Mayuri.


	248. Polish

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

I really hate the anime for giving her that wooden arm thing. Not cool, man.

Kukaku x Harribel

**Polish**

There was a polish, to some women. Slathered in chemical softeners and intentional smiles, there was always something a little unreal about them. There were no pretences for these two.

Something seemed… oddly familiar, about the woman standing in front of her.

No polish. It was strange.

Those bones bared with no confession, breasts exposed but for that line of white that covered just a little of its intimacy. Coat in rags around her. Kukaku couldn't think, for the life of her, why she was convinced she knew this woman, when, with her brash contrast of tan and blonde, she knew that if she had ever seen her before she would have remembered.

No matter. She was beautiful.

Harribel looked at her, and was bewildered.

Why did this woman wear herself with such disregard, such comfort? That arm, or the place where it had been, anyway- just there, no intent to disguise it with a prosthetic. That grin, rakish and speaking of no lies, just unavoidable truth.

It was strange.

And the way that she- what did she say her name was? Kukaku?- touched… it was unapologetic. As if she had all the right in the world to do it. As if she didn't give a fuck what people thought. Harribel understood that, at least. It was how she would have touched, had she ever dared to do so.

And the way she pressed her mouth to the ragged line of teeth on her jaw. That was...

She kissed each one with a force that bespoke cordiality or tenderness or finesse.

It was strange. It was exciting.

It was new.

She supposed that with a person who was so similar to her and so different, it might be okay to let her guard down, if only for a little while.


	249. Nose

Requested by mitsu-kun

Ikkaku x Yumichika

**Nose**

They lay staring across at each other, silent, their smiles conveying everything that needed to be said without effort. Ikkaku's arms were stretched across the bed, and Yumichika lay between them, head in the crook of an elbow. The room was warm and smelt of intoxication and sex, and the moonlight pooled in through the open window onto the bed.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

Ikkaku rolled his eyes before continuing to stare. Yumichika, used to not getting an answer, closed his eyes and pulled the covers up a little. A long, comfortable silence ensued.

"You have a really nice nose."

Yumichika opened his eyes.

"What?"

Ikkaku was blushing, his eyes wide.

"I… I like your nose."

Yumichika regarded him sceptically for a moment, before kissing the other and closing his eyes again.

"Thank you."


	250. Normal

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Love x Rose

**Normal**

They had to start as strangers.

Things build, over time.

Friendships vary rarely spring from nowhere. It is a slow progression, over time. Nods turn into greetings. Waves into the clasping of hands, warm and still a little cool. Smiles from the mouth reach the eyes, spreading up over faces until they light at the sight of a person they once didn't even know the name of. Tension fades to a warmth of recognition. Mistrust turns _to_ trust.

That's the normal way that friendship develops.

Then, they were thrown into the deep end.

Two Captains, who had known each other but a little, mixed in with a pile more of shinigami officers, all strangers to each other for the most part and all expected to live together and work together and _survive _together, to fight against the new things inside of them. No, not officers, anymore. Not really strangers, either, they supposed.

They lived together, ate together, trained together. They had been changed together, too. They fled the Soul Society together.

That is the sort of situation that counts for something.

Friendships and bonds grow overnight. It isn't the normal way that it happens, but when their world had been shook so suddenly, it is forgivable.

Suddenly, you can find yourself sharing a bed with a man who you once only shared brief glances across a Captain's meeting. You can't predict the future.

And really, who is to say that you should want to?


	251. Review

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Toibume and Hinamori

**Review**

Hinamori was useless; her zanpakuto had resigned herself to that fact by now. She didn't have enough confidence in what she was capable of to see that she could be so much _better, _and it left Toibume seething in frustration. She cried too often, and couldn't take a hit well to save her life. She relied too hard on the praise of others and still hadn't learnt to give it to herself. She had a decent enough hand at kido and combat but she often hesitated over using it, like a child trying to pick or a coward trying to avoid.

In review, she was absolutely useless.

Almost enough to make her want to resign from her post as zanpakuto spirit, except you couldn't really do that, could you? Not forever. It just wasn't feasible. Sure, you could ignore them, and you could be absent in voice, but… you were still Toibume, the zanpakuto spirit intricately and irrevocably connected to Momo Hinamori, and there was nothing that you could do to erase that fact.

As much as, sometimes, she wished that she could.

Toibume watched her wielder trip over herself once more as her Captain gave her a warm smile, and sighed.

The girl really needed her world shaking up, if she thought that this was the best it was ever going to be.


	252. Spoke

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Gin x Mashiro

I have no idea what this is about.

**Spoke**

She could remember when she used to watch old films, all the time, with anyone who would join her. She had laughed at 'Rebel Without a Cause' and had been utterly heartbroken by 'The Elephant Man', holding- she thought it might have been Shinji's, that night- hand so tight that his already pale fingers had gone even whiter. She had been disturbed by 'Un Chien Andalou' and had been spellbound by 'Le Doulos', pulling at her hair as she rocked back and forth, immersed, much to her own amusement as she thought about it afterwards. 'Ikuru' had captivated her and 'Night of the Living Dead' had sent the group she had seen it with into hysterics. After watching 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' she had wandered around in pearls for a week until her Captain had snapped them off her neck in complete annoyance.

There had been a moment, once, when she had seen Ichimaru. He had just been standing there, on the street of the living world, all grown up since the last time that she had seen him. He had turned to her and smiled, knowing exactly who she was. She had tried to reach for her zanpakuto, and tried to move into a fighting stance, but couldn't.

He beckoned to her. Like a puppet on a string that she could not deny, she had walked to him. She was an exile. She knew that he was a Captain now. Was he going to kill her?

"What d'you wanna see?"

She followed what might have been his gaze, though his eyes were still shut, into the film rental shop. She shook her head, all she could bring herself to do. She wondered whether or not he had cast some sort of kido on her, or if this was perhaps a power his zanpakuto held. But then…

"Nothing? Well, I already have something. Lets go, ne?"

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her, and as if she were boneless she fell behind him, eyes wide and terrified but yet, somehow not.

She didn't like it when people spoke through films. He did, though at times she wasn't able to tell what he was saying over the soundtrack, his voice was that quiet, lilting. She had to wonder, looking back on it, what he _had _been saying, what his reasons had been for being there, for talking to her, for taking her to that attic flat with its banged up old television set where they sat on the end of the bed to see it.

She had never liked 'Gone With the Wind'. Despite her fear and anger, she found herself drifting to sleep as it became more and more obvious that, no matter what he intended to do with her after the credits rolled, for now, she was safe. At least, she hoped so. To her mortification she still couldn't bring herself to leave. There was something enticing about his perfect stillness, that constant smile. Something that wouldn't let her leave, the same way that when he was a child, looking too small in his shinigami uniform, his gaze would make her feel as if she was about to fall over.

Sleep was taking her, slowly but surely, and she curled her legs up under herself. He reached for her, and pulled her head down to rest on his thigh. She had the faintest recollection of him stroking her hair, and her cheek. She drifted in and out of sleep, waking to hear snatches of dialogue, to feel his movements.

"_Where shall I go? What shall I do?"_

When she woke, the television set had turned itself on standby, and the darkness was heavy outside. She sat up on the cold and empty bed, her head on a pillow, and looked around her.

She could still remember the press of his mouth against her neck, though now she wasn't sure if it wasn't a dream after all. She still didn't understand what he had been hoping to accomplish.

The next time she saw him, she found out a few years later, would be on the battlefield. She would not approach him, she thought. His smile was enough to break her will. He would just have to turn to her, and say a line, this or that, something she would remember, and she would fold.

"_Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." _

Maybe _that_ had been his intention all along.


	253. Agile

Requested by le car- thank you

Kenpachi x Unohana

**Agile**

He had to give it to her, she was surprisingly agile.

You know, for her age.

But hell, she could bend, more so than some women he'd had who were much younger. Her legs could curl around even the not-insubstantial width of his hips, and she was strong enough to roll him right over, if the momentum was right and he didn't try too hard to stop her. She could arch her back right down, leaving the taut white skin of her stomach completely straight and bare. She was quick, too, deceptively so when it came to ducking out of his hold, just to tease. It made him grin, her hidden feistiness. It was almost like she was another person.

It made him quite glad that she had got drunk at that Christmas party, and let this secret Retsu out, the Retsu that knew just the right place to touch him in just the right way to make him want to grab her and run away with her to a bedroom, _quickly._

Captain Retsu Unohana of the Fourth Division. Unohana. Retsu. There were no indications of her years on her body, still as smooth as she must ever have been. he caught sight of lines on her face if he looked hard enough, smile lines and frown lines, though he struggled to think of a time when she had ever frowned.

He never asked her how old she was. It didn't seem right to, when some moments in public she was so serene that she seemed older than the Captain-Commander, and sometimes in private she acted Yachiru's age.

He liked that, how unpredictable she was. She was one of a kind, and really, if he was going to be honest, he just liked _her_. He liked how beautiful her face was and how much Yachiru adored her. He liked the way that she spoke and he liked even more the way that she fucked. She was strong enough so he didn't ever have to worry him and though they had never fought, or even sparred, there was always something mildly arousing about the half-knowledge that she might have been able to beat him, should she want to.

Plus, she was his perfect partner. The Eleventh division needed discipline, and fear. His division were scared of him, but they were even more scared of her.

Fucking brilliant.


	254. Bathe

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Rukia x Orihime

**Bathe**

They get up together, and shower, dress on either side of the bed. The room is small, but they don't mind, because it is right for the two of them. They exchange warm words and gentle smiles and they go to school; they sit through lessons and learn a little more each day of things that they don't really need to know in the real world, in the adult world, that seems so far away from them, even though Rukia has lived for centuries and Orihime has seen more sorrow and knows more power than most adults living.

They talk to Ichigo and Uryuu and Chad, and other friends that they have, and they eat lunch in a big group that changes a little every day but is always laughing regardless. They go home together, hands brushing and giving each other soft little looks as they talk about the day that they've had and the people they love and other, inconsequential things, like what is going to be on television that evening, or what they will do at the weekend. Sometimes they go around to see Ichigo after school, sometimes Uryuu. Sometimes they have clubs to go to, but they always walk home together, even if one has to wait.

They order in a lot of food, for their evening meal. Rukia can't cook and tries to dissuade Orihime from doing so at all costs.

They bathe together as well, in warm water scented with whatever was on offer that week at the supermarket. Orihime likes lavender, Rukia prefers eucalyptus. It is rarely either, but they don't mind too much. The water is always hot enough to turn their skin pink and to make them feel clean, and the suds stick to their skin and slide down their limbs. They sit facing each other, legs tangled, half-floating.

Sometimes they cry, sitting there in the bath. The steam wreathes around them and makes it feel like it is okay to, because Orihime's bathroom is tiny and so it gathers thicker, and it is harder to see. It wouldn't matter, though- they both know when the other is upset.

They cry for people. They cry for places. Sometimes they cry just because they can see that the other girl is, and the sight of it is heartbreaking.

Rukia cries for Kaien, still, although less now than she ever has. Sometimes the fact that she can go weeks without thinking of him makes her cry in guilt at that, too. She cries in homesickness, for her brother and Renji and her Captain and friends in the Soul Society, those people that she can rarely see anymore. Orihime cries for her brother as well, especially if she has had nightmares the night before. She cries when she remembers Hueco Mundo, part in sadness and part in regret, sometimes just because the thought of white makes her shiver. On occasion she even weeps for Ulquiorra, who she remembers with a strange sort of guilt.

Tears are healthy. It lets the pain that they cannot speak about escape.

They towel each other off and smile, though with less enthusiasm in those moments, before pressing feather-light kisses to exposed shoulder-blades and still damp necks, trying to forget about things.

They go to bed. They make love. They get along okay, the two of them in their own little world, and for now it is all they need.


	255. Tip

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Shinji x Hikifune

It is feckin' hard to write a character that has no character.

**Tip**

He knew that she wasn't as much of a saint as Hiyori thought.

In Hiyori's head, Hikifune was her mother, and Shinji was a kind of irresponsible older brother, the really annoying type. How would the girl cope, if she were to find out that said mother had instigated some sort of secret and unspoken pseudo-incestuous relationship that might well destroy the little part of Hiyori that still believed in things like families, and fairness, and normal love? There wasn't much of that Hiyori left. Neither of them wanted it to go.

Oh, he knew that he deserved more of the blame than that made out. He wasn't going to lie, and claim that he hadn't used his sort-of-friendship with Hiyori to get closer to her, but Shinji had always tipped the scales to his favour. Not that his affection for the girl (underneath the irritation) wasn't real. He had been friends with her long before he had even _heard _of Captain Hikifune.

But when he had caught sight of her, that first time… well.

Sometimes, there are things that you just can't resist.

She had made the final move. They _always_ made the first move, Shinji made sure of it, because that way he was always free of at least a modicum of responsibility, and it always made them belong just a little bit more to him, made them a little more compliant, a little more obedient. That was why Hiyori pissed him off so much- because she didn't listen to him or do what he wanted. Hikifune had been perfect, in that respect; the perfect woman.

Or, so he had thought.

When he had gone to their normal meeting place he had found a note from her, biding him farewell, forever. It thanked him for their time together, but told him that she had never had any intention of being with him forever, no matter what he had thought. He had to laugh, really. He had been so sure that he had her under his thumb.

When he got back to his quarters, he raised a silent and solitary toast to her, to the one that had got away. He really had never thought that she would actually tip the scales back.


	256. Great

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Lilynette, Yachiru and Hiyori

**Great**

"Welcome to the foundation of the Great Shinigami Children's Society!"

"Ahem?"

Yachiru faltered, then picked up again with even more enthusiasm.

"Kyaah, I mean, the Great Shinigami and Arrancar Children's Society!"

"What?"

Lilynette groaned as she grabbed the microphone (a prop that wasn't necessary, crammed as they were into a box room in the Urahara shoten).

"Okay, okay. The Great Shinigami and Arrancar and Vizards Children's Society!"

Hiyori scratched at her head, nearly knocking over several boxes in the process.

"We could just call it The Children's Association?"

"That'll work."

"The GREAT Children's Association."

"Yeah, yeah, Yachiru."

"We don't need to _tell_ people that we're awesome."

Lilynette, refusing to give up the microphone now that she had wrestled it from Yachiru's grip, moved the meeting along.

"First order of business?"

"Kicking Shinji's ass for saying this was a stupid idea."

"Waking Starrk up?"

"Stealing Bya-kushi's fish!"

There was a pause.

"I'm up for that."


	257. Cut

Requested by Nadie- thank you

The gym teacher is a twisted combination of Gai, from Naruto, and the gym teacher from Toradora.

Keigo, Tatsuki, Mizuiro, Chizuru, Ichigo, Chad, Uryuu, Orihime and Rukia

**Cut**

"Class! Assemble!"

The school's new fitness teacher pulled a dramatic pose in front of them, flexing his overly pumped muscles in a rather enthusiastic way that made Ichigo feel a little ill, because it reminded him rather too much of his own father. They had been ordered to the outer playing fields where the class now stood, staring in a mixture of amazement and fear at the ridiculous looking contraption in front of them.

"I shall now group you into teams of three!"

Rukia leant over to Ichigo, kicking him lightly on the leg to get his attention as she raised both eyebrows at him, obviously also noticing the rather scary similarities. Ichigo made a mental note not to let these two meet at the next parent-teacher evening. He was so busy working out how best to do this that he didn't even noticed that the teams had been allotted until Keigo fastened himself around his waist, wailing aloud that they were to be 'wrenched apart ahead of such an ordeal', as he put it.

Ichigo was still too baffled by the teacher and the _thing_ that looked like an incredibly warped obstacle course to even be all that annoyed. They lined up in relay at three points. The teacher pulled out a theatrical gun- couldn't a whistle have sufficed?- and sounded it, half-deafening the class in the process.

The first section was a mess of tyres- you had to run from once to the next without tripping. Keigo, on team three, fell flat on his face within seconds, whilst Mizuiro on team five was running right past him with a word of encouragement that was no doubt meant to be more annoying than helpful. Ichigo passed it without too much concern. By the time he had reached the sand-bed covered in netting he was ahead, but half-way across Mizuiro scrambled past him, surprisingly agile on all fours. He nearly threw his baton to Chizuru, who ran for the next obstacle in a haste that was no doubt mostly spurred by the fact that she was due to pass it on to Orihime.

He reached the other side as Keigo managed to get to his feet, Tatsuki screaming at him from the second point to get his ass in gear. Chizuru had a good head start on Chad, Ichigo thought ruefully as he passed the baton to him, which would have been a problem had the next obstacle not been a set of monkey bars that, though high, were not high enough for Chad to not be able to touch the ground and walk across it.

"Keigo! You're cut from my team, you hear me? Cut!"

Someone else was pointing at Chad, yelling that his height was cheating, it was an unfair advantage, and the like. Such fair and annoyed protest was promptly... ignored.

The balance beam didn't prove too hard a task for Chad either, but Chizuru, having caught sight of Orihime looking exceptionally cute in her gym kit, blazed past him, despite Rukia's yells of encouragement subtly threaded with a very real threat. Luckily for them, Chizuru's momentum did not slow, and she knocked Orihime flying, landing on top of her with a satisfied crow of delight. In the meantime, Tatsuki had been making significant headway, battering down opposition in her stead.

"Shouldn't that be against the rules, Coach? She just tripped him right up!"

"No fair! Ref!"

The teacher was besides himself with joy at her enthusiasm, and had no time for such petty things as… ahem, rules.

"Such youth! Such passion! Go, Arisawa!"

Uryuu took the baton from her and had significant help in that Orihime was still on the floor, the other teams were still knocked over by Tatsuki, and Rukia had got somewhat stuck on the wall (bless, she just was too small for the high things). Unfortunately, as he reached the top his glasses slipped off, and he was left half-way over, unable to move for fear of falling as he could not see where to place his feet.

The race ended in a stalemate, bruises and a couple of particularly bad cases of wounded pride and broken glasses.

The new teacher announced they would try again next week.

Ichigo firmly resolved to let Kon use his body the next time they were due to have games.


	258. Suspended

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Hyourinmaru x Luppi

ABSTRACT LOL.

**Suspended**

There are three worlds that we know of for definite; Hueco Mundo, a place of endless white sands and an unchanging moon; the Soul Society, the home of the shinigami, and the living world that is inhabited by humans.

That is not the end of it.

There are planes of existence between them. The hollows know of some, more that you might expect. They often find themselves slipping into other places without meaning to, when searching for prey. The Shinigami know of a few, as well, though the humans know very little of the truth of these eternal others. Or of anything outside their own sphere of existence, in fact. They are a little ignorant, like that. But, there _are_ more. Some cross space, between the worlds. Some deny light, and some deny darkness; there are a few that deny all the laws of nature. Some breach time. Some are suspended between life and death.

Some breach the very nature of reality itself, and these are the ones that spiritual beings often find themselves swimming between, after death.

It is in one like this, suspended in nothing and yet encompassing _everything, _that Luppi feels the bite of cold on the air. And that was strange, because he has felt neither chill nor heat in so long, and he has missed the sensation so much that now it has become strange to him. He shivers, whilst he feels on fire with longing. Out of the darkness wings a beast of ice, who freezes him in a singular stare. His form seems to be in constant flux, from scales to skin and back again, too quick for Luppi to follow.

"I am Hyourinmaru."

"You're so cold."

His voice is fainter than he remembers it being, half whispering as the great beast comes closer and closer. His presence feels glacial.

"There are many ways that I can be ice. Would you care to see?"

His touch, on the pale line of Luppi's throat, is so cold that it burned, and all he can do is grin at the pain. It has been too long since he has felt something like this, something real, something tangible.

"Why are you here?"

Luppi smiles, though it takes him a moment to answer, as he struggles to remember.

"I died. Did you?"

"No. I am a spirit. I cannot die, not in the way that you can."

"I see."

Luppi reaches to touch him, but finds that he has literally been frozen now, limbs spread and held in place with creeping tendrils of ice, crystallised frost making arching patterns around his wrists and ankles. His smile never falters, he simply strains his head and body forward against the constraints and tries to touch his nose to the great beast's skin, flickering from one thing to the other in delicate winter motion. He can see blues of different shades and the palest of greens, white-starched peach and hoarfrost. The beast is sub-zero. Luppi cannot help but like it.

The beast does not let Luppi touch him, though he knows well that Luppi longs with all of the being that he has left to feel the bitterness through his own skin.

The beast spears what is left of his body through with great shards of ice, some no thicker than a shadow and others larger than Luppi himself is, or so it feels, but every time he looks they have vanished only to be replaced with another of a different size, shade, though always in the same part of him, over and over again. That is the nature of this place. Nothing is ever as it seems. The only thing that comes even close to it is the raw chill of pain, and even that feels abstract.

In a strange way that feels right, even feels good.

He arches into the pain, into the stabbing and destroying hurt that is making him feel real again.

The beast is still cool, still pure frost, and Luppi his smiling.

"Thank you."

The beast does not respond, only spears him once more with that same, exquisite ice.


	259. Wish

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Hiyori x Karin

**Wish**

"What are you doing up here?"

Hiyori glanced to the side from where she was lying, flat on her back against the cool slates of the roof of the Kurosaki's house. The night was clear, and even though it was a deep black she could see so few stars. She hated that, about this place: on clear nights in the Soul Society she had been able to see a unfathomable, endless map of pinprick lights. Here, the orange of streetlights hid most of what was out there. Karin was crawling across, over to her, from the skylight in the room that she shared with her sister that she often pulled herself up and out of.

"Looking for stars again?"

Hiyori nodded, turning back to the sky. Karin reached her, and lay down beside her, their arms pressing together into warmth. Hiyori smiled, and made a sound somewhere between an exhale and a laugh, as if she had just caught herself thinking something stupid.

"Wishing upon stars gets you fucking nowhere."

Karin grinned at the half-annoyed and half-rueful tone of voice, and nodded. Hiyori could be damn strange sometimes, that much was obvious, but there was a lot about her that she liked, and a lot of similarities about them, too. Hiyori had that same burn to her- in an oddly shrewd conversation with her father once, he had commented that whilst Ichigo's base emotion was disquiet, and Yuzu's was concern, Karin's own was exasperation at that which she could not accomplish, could not succeed in.

"You don't have to tell me that."

Hiyori, too, felt that way about a lot of things. There were many things that they did not talk about, in part because Karin knew she might not understand the full extent of things and in part because Hiyori just did not want to relive them. She turned, her cheek flat against the roof. It had rained, earlier that day, and the damp was already soaking through her clothes but she didn't care; in moments like these, she never cared.

"Hey."

Hiyori turned to, so that their eyes met over the smallest of distances.

"What?"

They reached for each other's hands at the same moment, fingers grasping awkwardly. A siren sounded in the distance, but the noise was abstract, too far away to be focused on.

"If you could wish on stars, what would you wish for?"

Hiyori stared at her for a moment, face half-obscured by shadows. Karin leant forwards, pressing their heads together, eyes closed tightly shut and her voice a hoarse and urgent whisper in the dark.

"Don't think about it. Don't think about anything. Right now, right here- what would you wish for?"

Karin's face was too close for Hiyori to focus on, but she could hear the ragged edge of her breathing and could almost taste her skin, when they were this close.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Hiyori shook her head.

"Nothing needs changing."


	260. Derange

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Suzumebachi x Wabisuke

**Derange**

She thought she might be a little deranged.

It was a pretty dangerous game, the one she played with him. Well, sparring was always going to be dangerous, when you were as small as she was, but when your opponent could double your weight just with the briefest touch of his power it got a little bit more worrying. Metaphysical sparring couldn't actually do you any harm, but it tended to give your wielder a hell of a headache if you got beaten too badly, and it was more than a little bit of a dint on the ego.

It was a good job that she was quick, because it would have been over in a moment if he had been able to get her to the point where she wouldn't be able to fly any more.

On those rare moments, when she came crashing to the ground to land in a broken heap of weight and annoyance, he would kneel beside her and straighten out her wings with infinite tenderness, pressing kisses to the length of them, as heavy as the millstone he carried around his own neck, a silently belligerent and self-indulging punishment. The moistness of those kisses always took hours to dry off; the delicacy of them took years to forget.

She came back time and time again. Sometimes she even let him win, just to feel his mouth against the filigree-fine nerves that lay in phospor-colour on her wings.

Yes, she really thought that she might have a bit of a problem, but then, there was no accounting for taste.


	261. Pity

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Ichigo x Sogyo no Kotowari

For those who have not seen the anime arc, Ukitake's zanpakuto takes the form of two, playful boys. Which disturbs me. I can't write proper pairings with kids.

**Pity**

It was a strange sort of game, that they played. Ichigo danced out of the way of their- mainly- playful attacks and tried his hardest not to hurt them, because even though they were dangerous they still looked like kids, and he had a certain affinity with their wielder, who struck him in the brief moments they had been in the same company as one of the sanest and most reasonable Captains there was (though, really, that wasn't saying a lot).

It was a pity that it couldn't have all been for fun, but Sogyo no Kotowari had other plans.

A careful movement to the left, and Ichigo came against a disguised dip in the floor as he turned to keep them in front of him, where he could see them, catching his foot and stumbling. One struck the back of his knees, the other grabbed his arm and pulled him around mid-fall so that he landed on his back to the sound of bright and bubbling laughter.

One sat on his chest, the other poked his forehead.

"You're slow, Ichigo!"

He scowled, but in their good humour they couldn't take it seriously, just each pressed a quick peck to his cheek before jumping upwards.

"Again, again!"


	262. Hang

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Ichigo and Renji

**Hang**

"Wanna hang out?"

Renji stared at him, a little warily. It was very rare of Ichigo to ask such a thing, and was even stranger seeing as how he was currently sat in Ichigo's room already, even if the other had only just come in. He went for bewildered and sarcastic in his response.

"Sure, why not?"

"Good."

Ichigo threw himself down on the floor next to Renji and promptly punched him, with all his not-inconsiderable strength, in the shoulder.

"Ow, you fucker! What the hell was that for?"

What the hell was up with Kurosaki? He wasn't here to be his private punch bag, for fucks sake!

"Stress relief."

"Stress relief for _what_?"

"I'm stressed."

Renji rolled his eyes, glaring.

"I gathered. About what?"

Ichigo looked at him, incredulous.

"Have you not _met_ my father?"

From downstairs, Renji could hear Isshin's wailing, now that he was listening for it; the normal drivel of _my son, my dearest son, why does he not love me when all I want to do is beat him with a loving tenderness so that he can grow to be a man as great and wonderful as his father, though he cannot see me for all the greatness that I am! _and all the normal petulant whining that Isshin came out with.

"Good point."

Ichigo nodded.

"So, let's hang out."

Renji thought about it, and the likelihood of being punched again. He eyed the open window, warily, and considered whether or not Inoue would let him crash on her sofa that night.

"Hell no!"


	263. Hidden

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Gin x Yoruichi

**Hidden**

Her emotions were hidden away, but that was okay, because so were his. No pretence, ever, that it was otherwise, though they both took a strange sort of delight in trying to rediscover those emotions, like hidden gems in a secret pool; underwater caves, deprived of air and light and noise and touch. It was another game to them, just one of many that they played, and it was always the one that they found the hardest.

Hidden, far away, but still glimmering, just a little, in the subaqueous depths of feeling, so well disguised.

Emotions, those emotions that people always believed that they could see but couldn't, not really; their smiles were not rare affairs, by any means, but that meant nothing. It had never meant anything. He had smiled whilst something in his mind had broken, and she had smiled when she had wanted to scream. That is what people do, when they must be strong. Make believe.

"_Let's play pretend."_

They were good at games, both of them. Poker faces, memory games; they both had the slight of hand of a well-practiced trickster. Aces fell out of his sleeve, a straight flush hidden under her chair. They laughed. It still didn't mean much, but when it was the two of them, perhaps it could be allowed to mean a little more. But just because emotions are re-discovered, that doesn't mean that they are whole again. Hidden gems in a secret pool; crystallized beyond recognition, their light distorted, a confusion of faceted illumination that set the water of those submerged caves on fire, or turned them to ice.

When they touched, it hurt, and it felt good, in equal amounts. That pain, they realised, was long hidden emotion resurfacing. It worried them.

They tried not to touch. They failed.

"_Let's play, Gin."_

"Games?"

A nod, a smile. A hand reaching out to run across a half bared shoulder, pale as the quarter moon in the sky outside.

"It's good that I like games, you know."

She kissed his shoulder blade, and he could feel the curve of her mouth; mocking, upwards.


	264. Am

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Tatsuki and Ikkaku

**Am**

I am each muscle in my body. I am the blood in my veins and I am every movement that I make. I am my arm. I am strength.

The echoing words of her master's mantra made her grin as she threw another opponent to the floor. Really, this was just getting too easy now. She knew she competed in national tournaments, but was this all that Karakura had to offer? Seriously?

"Next to the ring, Abri-"

The referee was cut off by the anxious waving of hands. From the looks of the guy, if he had had a white flag with him, he would have been waving that instead. Tatsuki rolled her eyes, picking up her towel to mop at her forehead. She anticipated the day over, as it normally was at this point: when they gave in rather than facing her, it generally meant that she had run out of adversaries for the evening.

She turned to go, but was stopped by a harsh and barking voice that she recognised.

"Oi, the hell d'you think you're goin'?"

She turned, slowly, face broken by a wide grin. She'd hoped he'd show up- if only to prove to him that stomping around the place with a bad expression wasn't enough to make you strong. She could tell by the way he looked- he didn't take this sort of thing seriously, didn't understand what it meant to have discipline. She knew that sort of guy- they had no reason to fight, just did it for the hell of it, and that made them easy to defeat. He was taller than her and broader than her, no doubt physically stronger than her, but against that sort of person, she could win with ease.

"Oh… who are you?"

The referee was bemused as Tatsuki waved his half-complaint aside. Ikkaku spat to the side of the ring.

"Doesn't matter who the fuck I am."

Tatsuki cracked her knuckles. She was looking forward to this.

Five seconds later, she was flat on her back.

He leant over her, an eyebrow half raised, that grin on his face but a hardness in his eyes that suddenly seemed very real, and incredibly authoritative.

"You know what your biggest problem is, Arisawa?"

She shook her head, dumbly.

"You don't know who the fuck I am. You just go and assume shit."

He offered her his hand.

"Wanna find out what I'm really capable of?"

Despite herself, she couldn't help but grin right back at the thought of a spar that, for once, might be something of a challenge.


	265. Knew

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Kazeshini x Senbonzakura

**Knew**

"Talk don't change a thing."

Kazeshini didn't anticipate anything in response. What he said was true, for one thing, and he wasn't even sure if he could have picked Senbonzakura's voice out amongst a crowd, he spoke that rarely. His face was something of a mystery, too, but Kazeshini couldn't say that he cared too much about that. As long as there was enough skin bared so that nothing got in the way, he couldn't give a damn what he saw and what he didn't: after all, his own face was a blur of undecipherable shadows, impenetrable blackness, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Nothin' you can say would make a difference."

Senbonzakura's fist connected with his stomach and he doubled over, grinning widely and arousal peaking, never breaking what he thought might have been eye-contact with the silent spirit. His words were riling the other, he knew, but he didn't care, because he a also knew that they would not do enough to stop the lustful provocation that had yet to peak in the air, because he knew that Senbonzakura was as wild as he himself was, in his own self-serving and introverted ways.

He hissed something else between his teeth, and licked the tip of his red and pointed around his mouth.

"Not gonna say anythin', kid?"

A body collided with him that time, knocking him to the floor in a roll of flashing teeth and clawing hands. Kazeshini couldn't help but let his head roll back as the other plunged a hand deep into the shadowy and skinless depths of his body, ripping through him as if he was nothing, the shadows re-forming around his hand as quickly as it parted to let him through.

He shuddered at the sensation of being torn apart. Words couldn't change that sensation.

He didn't want them to.


	266. Flask

P.o.t.C reference, urgh.

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Byakuya x Matsumoto

**Flask**

He wasn't quite sure how he had ended up here.

Hot, sweaty rooms full of gyrating cowboys and women in latex and people dressed for no apparent reason in top hats and tribal masks and giant banana costumes (that inexplicably wore pyjamas, it appeared) were not his idea of a good time.

He was even less sure where the hip-flask had come from.

The annual party for seated officers of the Gotei13 was a long-honoured tradition, although the Captains had rarely attended the event that normally turned into something of a drunken brawl (apart from those Captain's who seemed to spend most of their time either brawling themselves, or particularly drunk, or both: and no, he was not inferring Zaraki or Kyouraku in that statement at all). He himself had never been, but this year all of the Captain's had pledged to attend, in the name of festive spirits at the end of the war. The combined pressure of appearances and Rukia's pleading had forced him to attend the rabble, just as the Captain-Commander had ordered.

It was always traditionally a costume party: he, of course, did not bother with such frivolities, and it was with an unhappy nod that he allowed Rukia out of the house in the bunny costume that Ichigo had sent her, probably only with the intention of pissing her brother off. His lack of decoration had apparently offended Matsumoto, decked out in full pirate gear, who had weaved over to him and had asked him in a drunken slur where his costume was. Even _Kurotsuchi _had dressed up, although the fact that he had dressed up as Jack the Ripper was scaring people a little bit.

She had tugged on his sleeve again.

"Oh, unlesh you've come as a Gotei _Captain_? Thatsh so clever!"

She had not let him reply, had only thrust the flask into his hand and commanded him to drink. A combination of her terrifying breasts and Rukia's glares made him take a tentative sip, slightly concerned about who else had drunk from this and what he might be catching from it.

"Drink, Byakuya!"

Before he could protest at the order or the name, she had pushed the flash upwards, so that he was forced to either swallow the sudden rush of liquor or spray it out everywhere in a way that would be considerably inappropriate and inelegant. Not to mention the fact that brute Zaraki would find it utterly hilarious.

"C'mon big boy, down it!"

He would have said something sarcastic and faintly outraged at that, but the flask was still pressed against his mouth. Soon it was empty, and she pulled it away as she simultaneously squashed her breasts against his chest. She peered into the bottle, blinking.

"Where's all the rum gone?"

His eyes widened momentarily as she fisted her hands in his robes, drawing herself up even closer to his body, jutting her hips against his. To his dismay, he could already hear Zaraki's drunken cat-calls from across the room. This evening really wasn't going well. He almost fell into her as she grabbed hold of his chin and pressed her mouth against his just-about-open one, slipping in her tongue to the wolf-whistles of the crowds of shinigami.

He would have Senbonzakura'd her into next week if it hadn't been for the sound of a faintly inebriated Captain-Commander behind his back, calling out his congratulations at 'young Kuchiki finally learning how to have fun'. He closed his eyes, and pretended that all this was some far-fetched dream.

Needless to say, that particular party went down in the Gotei13 history books, and not just for old man Yama's rather out of tune, table-top singing.


	267. War

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Tatsuki, Karin and Yuzu

**War**

They are three girls that know too much to be children, but not enough to be women. They stand on a precipice of understanding. On one side is ignorance and innocence, on the other is knowledge, and the place where everything has lost that childish virtue. There is nothing, yet, to push them off the knife-edge on which they stand and so they must hover, awkward. They get the gist of things, they think, but are still too young to realise that there is so much more at stake than what they understand. Ichigo has not gone to fight bad people who need to stop. It is so much more than that.

Their entire existence rests on the outcome of his unlikely success. This is not a game, this is reality, and there is a very real chance that Ichigo could die.

His father understands that; so do the friends with him.

But they have been left behind, and it infuriates them. They know that it is a place that they cannot reach or follow, but they don't understand the full extent to which that is true: it is not just in terms of distance.

It is a mentality that they have not grown into yet. Yuzu is too wrapped up in the guilt that she is not enough to fill her mother's place to think of anything else enough to understand, and Tatsuki has never know any sort of loss, or grief, before. Karin is perhaps the most innocent out of any of them, for she wears the least responsibility, and remains just a little further in childhood, in sarcastic sulks and pouting and games.

They hear people talk about war. They think that they know what it is from watching the news, from films, from organised and refereed fights in an orderly dojo. They talk about love, and maybe they understand that a little better, but still not enough, perhaps.

They say that they are willing to die for love.

But there are people out there who _are_ dying for love: people who fight in battle with the Espada to protect the body of a fallen sister, people who fight to protect their highest ideal. There are people who are willing to die to save the world. Orihime is there, Chad is there, Ichigo is there: a hundred other people are there, as well.

They say that they are willing to die for love, but they know nothing about dying, and they know nothing about a love that deep, that all-encompassing, that painful.

And it is that, more than anything else, why the rest of the people in their world- those who do understand- are fighting the war; to protect that innocence, to keep them one-foot in childhood, to stop the balance tipping. They fight for those few who may still be saved from the hold of a blood-soaked battlefield, long after it has passed.

They do not understand that. Perhaps it is for the best.


	268. When

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Orihime x Sode no Shirayuki

**When**

She had never seen anything quite like it, anything that made her fill with pity and at the same time was so strangely inspiring. Even though the girl couldn't stand the thought of battle and violence, even though no one had faith in her abilities on the front line, to fight or even to defend herself adequately, she still put herself forward, time and time again. Firstly when Rukia was captured, of course, and that always stuck the most in her mind because it had involved herself so intimately: she had risked her own life, then, to defend a girl that she had only known a handful of weeks.

That was something exceptional, when a girl stood to fight a cause that was not her own, when there were others who could do it and who could do it better: when a girl battled her own fear and her own knowledge that she was not nearly strong or well-trained enough to take on the Seireitei.

When a girl stood haplessly on the brink and only smiled, even though she must have known that stepping any closer would end in a fall.

Sode no Shirayuki had to respect a girl like that.

In battles afterwards, she had seen that same spark of determination: after that war, and into the next. That one really had nothing to do with her, and still she had crouched over Rukia's bleeding and unconscious body, holding her own as much as she could. When a girl did something like that, you knew for certain that you owed her.

She had materialised next to the girl, and had protected both her and the body of her weilder, until the ebb and flow of the battle had passed them by.

And then, with infinite tenderness and no sense of irony, the girl had kissed her barely-there cheek and thanked her, for always being there to defend.

She had said nothing to that, only stared at Orihime Inoue and realised that she had two allegiances now: to the girl who held her soul, and to a new girl, who held her heart.


	269. Bane

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Ichigo and Nel

**Bane**

"You are the bane of my life."

"Wha's that mean?"

He shook his head, and she poked his cheek again. He was pretty sure that she was going to start drooling soon, he could tell by her growing incoherency, and her slowly widening mouth.

"Nel, don't you think it is time to get off me?"

She nuzzled her head against him, from her perch on his shoulder, and he groaned in annoyance as her response.

"No."

"I want you to get off me now."

"No."

He clicked his tongue.

"Nel, stop being so stubborn!"

"NO!"

She bit his ear with a solid chomp. He sounded something that might have grown into a protest in the back of his throat, but it was cut off by a heavy thump around the head that knocked him off balance and head-first into the slope of the dune.

He spat out a mouthful of sand, and contemplated continuing the argument.

He supposed he could live with the drool.


	270. Everything

Requested by The Crazy Chick In Black- thank you

Lilynette x Neliel

**Everything**

"Hullo."

She didn't turn at the voice, because she knew it well. There was no need for an introduction, although there remained a need for an explanation.

"Where the hell have you been?"

There was an almost imperceptible movement, and Lilynette knew that it was not the body she could just about feel, but air itself, parting around it. She had always been able to move with a speed and silence and illogical stillness that had put even Ichimaru to shame, for all he had been able to sneak up on all and sundry.

Hands rested on her shoulders, soft and cool.

"Away. You don't have to worry about it."

"Stop treating me like a child."

She rounded on her, ready to yell at the tone, quiet with just a hint of condescension, but she choked back her own words at the sight.

"I thought you were dead. They all said you were dead. They say there is a new third."

Neliel's face was pulled into a frown, a still-fresh scar running down her forehead. She looked tired, worn, and her expression was one of deep concentration. Lilynette reached for her, pulling the other woman to her knees, so that she could embrace her, and press the length of her body against hers.

"You look terrible."

"I don't have long, Lilynette. Minutes, I think, before I need to go and get out of here."

"I'll-"

She was about to say that she would come with her, but something stopped her: the tugging force of her other half, her stronger half, her creator. She could not leave him, and he would not leave here, would not risk incurring Aizen's wrath, not now that he finally understood the extent of his power. Starrk was no coward, but he was sensible.

Nel was smiling at her, resigned and sad, as if she knew the dilemma running through her mind.

"Any last words?"

Lilynette's mind was blank, and when she spoke it came out croaked, wavering, as if she were about to cry.

"There is_ everything_ left to say."

Nel buried her face into the smaller arrancar's neck, sighing against the skin.

"I'm not going to remember you. Or any of this, I think. I doubt I'll ever be able to turn back. I'm using up the last of my spiritual power just to do this."

"Will you kiss me goodbye?"

The request surprised both of them, Lilynette having never sounded so desperate, so needy. Neliel complied, pressing them together as she kissed her deeply, tenderly, trying to say her goodbyes through the contact alone.

She pulled away, and was at the doorway before Lilynette had a chance to say anything else.

"You didn't sugar-coat that one, did you?"

It was Nel's turn not to look this time, and the darkness of the corridor had already swallowed her before she spoke in reply. Tears ran down Lilynette's face, dripping off her chin, staining the white of her uniform grey as they hit the fabric.

"You always told me not to treat you like a child."


	271. Flair

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Shinji and Unohana

**Flair**

He stared with some surprise at her: he had never known that she could tune a guitar. In fact, he had never known that she even knew what one was: with her indeterminate age and her few and far between trips to the living world, chances were she might not have done so. But, upon walking in on him attempting to tune his acoustic guitar by ear (since the coveted tuner he had treasured had broken the week before) she had taken a seat opposite him, with a smile that betrayed no surprise or bemusement.

Then again, he supposed that he was in the living world now, and a lot of things didn't make sense here. He had to get used to the surreal, right? And if seeing Unohana wasn't disconcerting enough (and he was glad to see her, he had to admit, seeing as how they had always got along so well when he was still a Captain), seeing her reach out and take the guitar was even weirder.

As she sat it on her knee he had a rather worrying mental image of her with her hair loose, in a rather fetching pair of slashed up jeans and a band t-shirt, head banging away to heavy rock music. It was a little disturbing.

Then, showing a remarkable flair, she tuned his guitar.

No hesitation, no concern: she just went right ahead and tuned it as he continued to stare, baffled.

Well, you learn something new every day, although he still couldn't get that image of her in a rock band out of his head.

"Hey, Retsu?"

She looked up, serene smile still in place.

"Have you ever heard of Black Sabbath?"


	272. Raincoat

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Byakuya and Renji

**Raincoat**

"Renji!"

His jumped. There was an unmistakable annoyance in that tone of voice that was quite unusual and distinct from his Captain's normal, calm manner. He nearly tripped in his haste to get up from where he had been waiting in the outer-room of Byakuya's personal quarters in his family home. He burst through the door, unsure what to expect but utterly forgetting decorum in the meantime.

"What on earth is this?"

Byakuya was pointing, with something of a formidable expression on his face, at a long, wooden tube on his bed. Renji looked at it, and then back to his Captain's face. Then he looked back. And back again, just to be sure.

"I… err… I think it's a rain-stick, Captain."

"I know what it is! I mean, what is it doing here?"

"I don't know… are you alright, Captain?"

Byakuya turned to him, and there was a moment of frantic lunacy in his eyes before it subsided and he forced his expression back into its more regular and slightly more sane mask.

"Of course I am, Renji. Just get this out of my sight!"

"I think it was a present from Yumichika to Rukia, Captain. He said it would match her… I dunno, something about beauty and interior decorating, I wasn't listening. Your servants must have put it here by mistake or something."

"I didn't ask why it was here. I asked you remove it."

"Captain… if you don't mind me asking, what have you got against rain-sticks?"

"They're bad luck, Renji. I do not appreciate the rain."

Now, Renji Abarai had no illusions that he was the most well informed guy around, or that he was the brightest spark in the wire, and he didn't believe that he understood or even knew every superstition, but this… well, this seemed strange, even by Gotei 13 standards. He lifted it up gingerly, and as the hiss of the beads fell down to one end of it there was a moment when he was convinced that Byakuya was about to belt him in the face.

"Renji, are you being intentionally incompetent, or are you just a fool?"

"I, well…"

"I do not care for rain."

Renji felt out of his depth.

"So, you don't like the sound that they make?"

His reply came coupled with a scathing look.

"I do not appreciate the consequences. Rain should not be encouraged in such a way. It is unnatural."

It took his Lieutenant a moment, but he caught up quickly enough.

"Captain, do you… do you think that a rain stick actually makes rain?"

"Of course it does, Renji. Stop being so foolish."

Renji needed a minute to try and make some sense of the situation. Was Byakuya being serious, or did he honestly believe that was true? And if he did, why was there no one around to see the one time that he was right and his esteemed Captain was being idiotic about something? _Why was this only his to savour?_

"Ah, Captain… did someone tell you that when you were a kid, or something? Who told you it was true?"

There was a moment of doubt on Byakuya's face now, only the faintest of flickers of course but Renji was well used to those rarely-changing expressions. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been Yoruichi- it sounded like something that she would do, and something that she would very much appreciate to be updated on (he made a mental note to write to the Urahara Shoten as soon as he got a spare moment). However, before his Captain could respond there came a light patter of rain on the roof.

Byakuya raised an eyebrow, faith restored and arrogance firmly back in place.

"I hope you are pleased, Renji. Now, you are free to leave. Consider the rain your own punishment for mishandling that… instrument."

Cursing in his head at his own bad luck, he was half-way out of the door before the final words from his Captain that day struck him, the closest thing he would ever get to either an apology or an admittance that maybe the mostly-infallible Captain was wrong.

"There is a spare raincoat, if you wish to ask the housekeeper for it. Now, go."

Renji was still grinning as he left the mansion, coat around him and a letter already half-written in his head.


	273. Pour

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

(HOLY SHIT, NOT A CRACK PAIRING)

Ichigo x Rukia

**Pour**

He wondered if this was what drowning was.

But then someone wrenched his head up from underneath the water, and then he was choking and coughing and hacking water everywhere, swearing between breaths.

"Fucking hell, Rukia!"

She glared at him from where she sat, stark naked, across his chest.

"Ichigo, if you're going to drown every time I get into the bath with you, then I'm just not going to do it any more!"

"Fine by me! Jumping on top of me isn't freakin' normal!"

She crossed her arms across her chest and shifted a little further down his body, effectively reminding him that even though his throat hurt and his eyes burned with the bubble bath that just got in them, there _was_ a naked girl on top of him, quite a beautiful naked girl at that, who had just started scooping up handfuls of the warm bathwater and pouring it over her shoulders, so that it tricked down over her breasts and into the soft dint of her navel. With a groan that was part irritation and part arousal he gave in, and slowly sat up, letting her slide down his body in a rather pleasing way so that she was in his lap, and could feel just how happy he was to see her.

He rolled his eyes at her and she reached for the jug, and poured water over his chest, soaping it gently as something that was almost a smile bit through his scowl.

"See, Ichigo? You _like_ it when I take a bath with you."

He couldn't be bothered to argue one way or the other, just reached to cup her face with her hands, tilting it upwards so that he could steal a kiss.

He hovered just above her mouth.

"Just don't drown me next time, right?"

She smiled, rolling her hips against his as he closed the gap a little further.

"No promises."


	274. Adventure

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Urahara, Yachiru, Ururu, Kenpachi and Ichigo

**Adventure **

'Hello!'

Yachiru stared at the message that was currently being spelled out on Ichigo's wall in something like blood. She wasn't sure if it was meant to be for her, but Ichigo and Ken-chan were arguing too loudly about him being able to stay there for either of them to notice. She waved cautiously at the word, just in case it was something clown-face had invented with cameras in it, like that time he wired their division just in case they were planning a way to destroy him, or something.

A little more slipped off the wall, revealing more letters.

'I am talking to you, Yachiru-chan!'

She stared at it quizzically. Very odd.

'You wanna go on an adventure?'

She did. Very much, because it was pretty boring here now that lion-thing had stopping moving. Normal little girls might have asked if it was okay for her to leave, but the argument was still raging on over-head and Ken-chan never had to worry about her looking after herself, after all.

She looked out of the window, and saw someone turning the corner, just the edge of a foot left before they disappeared. She ran after them, but regardless of what she did they always managed to stay just out of her reach until they reached a small, slightly dilapidated looking shop. She might have got lost (as was her tendency and shaky grasp of geography) but for the line of sweets that he man was dropping.

A giant lollypop rested on the doorstep. She snagged it, and went inside.

Lights went on. A microphone roared. There came the sound of a vast audience, applauding…

Well, actually, there were only a few people in the room, but you know. You get the drift.

What there was, though, was a large ring in the middle of the shop, counters pushed to either side and the spotlight focused on it. She could see the cat lady sitting on a desk, and there were a couple of other people dotted around, and for reasons she couldn't understand it looked like drunk-Captain was here too, merrily waving a sake bottle and clutching a betting slip.

There was a girl in the ring, boxing gloves on. She looked sort of sad, with droopy eyes. The man she had been following stood next to her.

"Ladiiiessss and Gentlemen! Lay your bets now! Kid on kid! Who will win? Only the fight will tell!"

Ichigo burst through the door, face red.

"Oi, you old pervert! Why are you trying to take Ya-"

The words died in his mouth as Kenpachi came in behind him, looking decidedly less concerned.

"This is sick!"

"Oh, get over it, Ichigo."

He stared, dumbfounded, at Kenpachi, who nodded at Urahara.

"What are the odds?"

"Three to one to my girl, Captain Zaraki."

"Huh," he grunted, as he turned to Yachiru. "You gonna prove to 'em that they're idiots?"

She nodded, as did he, in return. He sat himself down on the floor next to a drunken man on the floor (Ichigo blinked- was that Captain Kyoraku? The hell was he doing here?) snagging their bottle off them in the protest. He rubbed his eyes. This was evidently just going to be a mind-fuck night. He looked suitably outraged for a moment longer, before slipping over to Yoruichi to ask her the odds on Ururu winning.

Seriously, he'd felt the punch she had on her.


	275. Fine

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Rangiku x Nanao

**Fine**

"Ran!"

"Ne, Nanao, stop being such a prude!"

The shop attendant stared with worry at the wooden door of the changing room, and debated the pros and cons of going over there and making sure everything was okay. In an underwear shop, that sort of thing was generally considered quite intrusive, not to mention the fact that sometimes... you just didn't want to know.

"RAN! GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THERE!"

Trying to act as if she was entirely used to this sort of thing (bless her, she'd only been on the job for a week), she knocked on the door, only to find that it swung open underneath her fist, as it obviously had not been locked.

The two women that she had let in before were stood in the centre, both shirtless and in store bras, obviously trying them on: fair enough. That was where the normality ended: the taller blonde hand her hands down the front of the slim woman's bra, cupping her breasts and re-arranging them.

"Nanao, you look so _fine _in a balconette cut!"

"Rangiku!" the dark-haired woman hissed through her teeth, "there is someone in here! Get your hands off my boobs! I can't belive you forgot to lock the door!"

The other woman, Rangiku apparently, turned with a curious hmm to see the attendant, pointedly not removing her hands.

"So, attendant-san, do you think she looks cute?"

The other woman blushed a beet red, crossing her hands over her chest, knocking the other woman's arms as she went. She was stuttering out some other sort of protest, but the intense beam of Rangiku's smile was disconcerting the poor shop attendant so much that she couldn't quite bring herself to back out.

"Ah… umm, yes, quite lovely…"

"_See_ Nanao? You look _lovely_. Like I said- mighty fine."

The attendant found her eyes drawn to the blonde, who was now nuzzling the exposed, gentle mounds of Nanao's breasts with her nose, still giggling and chattering away as the other grew steadily more and more red.

She closed the door, and closed off the changing area for good measure as the giggling grew louder.


	276. Cube

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Because stress-balls make me feel happy inside.

Toushiro and Byakuya, Unohana in the background

**Cube**

Simultaneously, in two different offices across the Seireitei, two Captains stared in bemusement at the small object that someone had placed on their desks.

It a cube, made of some sort of red material, with the word 'stress' written on it in white.

"Matsumoto!"

"…"

Tentatively, they reached for the small note placed to the side. They read it. Their eyes widened.

A stress ball? What on earth was Unohana thinking of? But still, it looked strangely tempting…

Toushiro Hitsugaya picked it up, and squeezed it tightly. Byakuya Kuchiki ignored it for approximately thirty seconds before checking that no one was watching him, and reached for it.

Hmm. Squishy.

The entire Gotei13 spent the rest of the day utterly petrified. Toushiro, giving up on his work because he simply didn't care, spent it creating big, pretty ice sculptures all over the place. The only thing more disconcerting than Captain Hitsugaya asking you if you preferred butterflies to flowers was the sight of Captain Kuchiki, actually _smiling. _

The next day, Captain Unohana sent out similar packages to the Second division Captain and the Eighth division Lieutenant.

Experiment? Successful.


	277. Defeat

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Jyuushiro x Shunsui

**Defeat**

"Shunsui, what are you doing?"

"We have a mouse."

Jyuushiro rolled his eyes at his Academy roommate. If he hadn't been more used to Shunsui's bizarre antics, he might have been freaked out, as he entered the room, by the sight of the other student underneath the table brandishing a lump of rather suspicious looking cheese.

"And you're intending to... what? Join it?"

"I'm laying a trap for it."

He threw himself down onto one of the beds (it didn't matter which, Shunsui used them interchangably) with a huff, propping his feet up onto the table that his roommate was currently underneath.

"I swear, if you spent half as much time learning as you did with your ridiculous schemes, then you'd be… well, you'd be as brilliant as you are anyway, only your grades would actually reflect it."

"Ne, Jyuu-chan you forget that I don't really care about grades. What matters are the important things- like catching this mouse."

"Shunsui, get off the floor. We don't even know that there is a mouse."

"But I know there is!"

"You're just being stubborn."

"It's more than that, Jyuu-chan. It is a philosophical _concept._"

Jyuushiro rubbed his hand across his face, baffled and slightly amused, though he was trying to hide it and adopt a more serious expression.

"How, exactly?"

"Capturing a mouse is a symbol of my own strength and determination, of my power over nature. To show my intention to defend my household against sociological divide and the impact of-"

"Shunsui. It's a potentially fictional _mouse. _And you know you're only going to hurt yourself."

"Jyuu-chan, you have no fai- OW!"

"Told you."

"It got my fingers!"

"It's meant to do that, you know. That's why it's called a trap."

"Kiss them better?"

Jyuushiro swallowed down his laughter, raising an eyebrow as Shunsui began to crawl across the floor to him, a wicked smile on his face and his hand cradled against his chest, even though they both knew that it wouldn't have hurt as much as he let on. It only caught his fingertips, and it wasn't like Shunsui had been caught out by his own lazy attempts at kido before, either.

"No."

He pressed them against Jyuushiro's lips, and the pleading expression on Shunsui's face finally brought down his attempts at being stern, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"You're an idiot, do you know that?"

Shunsui nodded, diligently, his smile widening even more as he recognised the spark growing in Jyuushiro's eyes.

"And you'll give up on the mouse?"

"Yes, ye-"

He was cut off as Jyuushiro took his fingers into his mouth, running his tongue over the knuckle.

"Jyuu-chan?"

"Mmmpf?"

"If I got my _you know_ stuck in there, would you kiss that better, too?"

He got a pillow thrown at his head for that, but he decided that it was worth it, just for the blush he managed to raise in Jyuushiro's cheeks.


	278. Flow

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

The Captain-Commander, Ukitake, Byakuya, Mayuri, Soifon, Unohana, Aizen, Ichimaru, Komamura, Tousen, Shunsui, Kenpachi and Hitsugaya

**Flow**

The flow of blood from a wound can tell you a lot of things; anyone with a rudimentary understanding of medicine could tell you that. Blood flowing quickly, blood coming sluggishly, blood clotting, black blood.

But maybe it is more interesting to see people's expressions when they catch sight of it, to chart their reations.

The Captain-Commander is used to blood, so used to it, in fact, that you might say that he has become numb to it. Not that it doesn't affect him, more that he doesn't let it affect him anymore. He has seen too much of it not to be. He never starts at the sight of it, is never surprised by it: in fact, he isn't sure if he feels anything, anymore. Sometimes that makes him frown, that he doesn't feel- but he supposes it is better to be the way he is than to constantly be in floods of emotion. Ukitake, too, has become used to the feeling of it, though that wasn't always the case. Nobody knows about it, but when he had been very young Ukitake had completely frozen in fear at the sight of blood. For years, in fact, he had been struck with fear at even the smallest splashes, until it came with more and more regularity from his own body, and the effect of it began to dull.

For some people, however, blood remains a prominent issue, an thing of confliction and constant thought. The Kuchiki family, for example, put a great stock by blood, and by the purity of theirs: Byakuya would always be a little angry at that rule, at that order, and the strain that it had put on the small internal group of his adoptive family, dead and alive. But, as the blood in him dictated, it wasn't an emotion he could ever embrace, or let out. Sometimes he even wished that he could throw it aside, before duty caught up with him. A difficulty, a problem: Kurotsuchi also found blood a troublesome burden, although perhaps for slightly different reasons. For him, it was just one more part of the impractical human body that he needed to adjust and re-create. Until he could find a better synthetic substitute then he was willing to put up with it, but in the mean time he was quite sure that it was there to be manipulated, just as everything else in his life was.

Soifon hated the mess of it. Much better that a person die quick and easy, without some unnecessary explosion of organs and the like: better a swift death by poison than a long, agonising one, bleeding to death. That was her philosophy, anyway: stealth was important. Bloody handprints were a dead give away. If she had her way then everyone would live and die silently, as well, and never to infringe on the headache of her life. Blood would be a shade of grey, unforgettable, unnoticeable, never drawing anyone's attention. She didn't like the Fourth Division, for their blatant and enviable disregard for it: after all, you see a lot of blood when you were there, in the wards and on the battlefield. Some of the shinigami came to loathe the sight of it, but Unohana had nothing but the greatest regard for it- after all, she treasured life above anything else, and as thousands of blood transfusions had proved, you really need it.

Aizen also had rather a nice affinity with blood, although perhaps for different reasons than Unohana. It reminded him of complete and utter control- watching Hinamori scrape the skin off her knees just to catch a parchment he intentionally dropped was great entertainment, and a constant reminder to him of his plans and intentions. And of course, blood was a useful tool in keeping up his disguise and manipulation- he was always careful to clean up Hinamori's knees for her, afterwards, and chuck her under her chin for her clumsiness. But then, perhaps he thought _too_ much about it, and was a little too warped by the way that he could use it- Ichimaru, in fact, rarely considered it at all, if he was going to be honest. It was just a part of his day to day life- the taste of it, on his blade, the feel of it, in his mouth. He couldn't remember ever feeling shocked by it, at all. In fact, he quite liked it.

Komamura did not like blood- in fact, he hated it, hated the way that it stuck in his fur for days, matted into it. The only way to get it out was to immerse himself in hot, clean water, and watch the rusted flakes melt and send the faintest of tendrils wavering through the water. The sight of it disgusted him, and he always found himself growling under his breath at it. Tousen, though, did not know the look of blood, did not know the colour and had never had to watch the horrifying way it could slowly drip off the body of someone that you love. All he knew was the smell of it, that heavy, choking smell that got into your throat and made you feel as if you were suffocating, dying slowly. Any way that caused the least amount of that, the least amount of blood and death and horror was the best, as far as he could see.

Kyouraku believed a similar theory: it was not all to do with apathy, that he tried so hard to avoid battle and bloodshed. He had seen too many people that he had loved bleed, from the corners of the mouth and from deep, unfixable wounds and sometimes from injuries not on the surface at all. He always found himself wondering, when he stood before an opponent, who would weep on their grave, after he was through with them. Zaraki often thought quite hard in battle, too, as every time he saw blood he thought it of great interest- not other people's of course (the novelty had long worn off) but his own, that was another matter. After all, it wasn't like he got to see it very often. Those who could draw it from his body were well worth his attention.

He was young, and perhaps he was foolish, but Hitsugaya did not think too much of blood, not as the others did: for him, it was an unnecessary concern. It was much more important to focus on the battle itself, wasn't it? Much more important to debate life, and not the rest?

To focus on the wounds, and not the deep feelings evoked by them?

Because after all, in the ebb and flow of battle, you cannot stop and philosophically debate your wounds, if you hope to survive.


	279. Ticking

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Soifon x Shuuhei

**Ticking**

There was a ticking in her head, and it was driving her insane. It went from one side of her mind to another, pressing against her skull and heating up her head until it felt like she might explode. She had a headache, the sort that made you want to lie in a dark room and forget the world.

She called that headache Shuuhei.

Tick, tick, tick.

He was too… too much _everything_. He was too considerate, and too selfless: he drew the curtains for her when she forgot to do so, and when she tossed and turned in bed and ended up on his side all he did was get out of the bed and climb back in on the other side, so as not to disturb her.

It made her headache grow. It was irrational, but his niceness was driving her insane.

He kissed her even when she didn't want to, long and hard sometimes and soft and pressing others. He touched her hair, untied it, combed his fingers through it. When he had too much work to do, and woke up before the dawn, he moved around the room so quietly so as not to wake her that had she been any other girl, she wouldn't have woken up at all.

It was the thought that counts, and he always made it count too much, and it made her head _hurt_.

She hated it. She really did, that bastard metronome headache.

(She liked it, just a little bit.)


	280. Radiator

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Toushiro x Chad

**Radiator**

Chad was a radiator, a live furnace. It was as if he was a constant inferno, made for the singular and ultimate purpose of the soles of Toushiro's feet. If he ever found the feeling of that freezing contact in their warm bed a nuisance, then he never said anything: then again, he said very little anyway, which suited them both just fine. When Chad was woken by the feeling of feet like ice, he just pulled the man (because although he may have appeared to be a boy phsyically, in the mind and heart, the places that mattered, Toushiro was adult) closer to him, trying to banish that cold away.

Chad did a lot for Toushiro, in many other ways.

It was Chad who brought him back from nightmares. It was Chad who touched his shoulder when he woke still able to taste the stagnant after-battle smell of congealing blood and flesh in the back of his throat, who could comfort him when he felt guilt for the death that he had caused. Even though the Gotei13 Captains could not express any grief or remorse for those they had opposed in battle, it did not mean that he didn't dream of their dead, dead arms, reaching up from the ground to pull him down, down, down. It was Chad who never said much, but always said just enough to make everything feel okay again, to make it seem like he was just an ordinary person who didn't have to worry about such things.

And sometimes, he longed to be that other person.

In fact, the thought of him lifted Toushiro up from those darkest of days, from those moments when he could think of nothing but his annoyance and could dream of nothing but those dead stretched out before him, waiting. The thought of him kept him going on those long hours at work, when he had too much to do and not enough time to do it and could almost feel the appeal of defecting, of running away, just so he would have to deal with anymore paperwork or an incompetent Lieutenant and could just spend every night in that bed that was always so ridiculously warm that it made him feel as though he were thawing, melting, drifting away…

It was a hard life, jumping between two worlds, being a shinigami Captain and looking so much younger than he actually was. But still, those moments when he could slip away, those moments when he arrived back in the cool air of a Karakura night-time, there was Chad once more, window always open, skin still a radiator, uncomplaining as the slight, cold body slipped in next to him and wrapped his arms around the broad, awaiting waist.


	281. Blessing

Requested by my editor, with whom I have been discussing this situation since we went camping.

Shunsui x Yoruichi, ish, and Jyuushiro in the background

**Blessing**

"Yoruichi!"

He yelled her voice aloud, but that was not uncommon, seeing as how they tended to yell a lot of things at each other, in a show of youthful (and often drunken) exuberance that made Jyuushiro cringe even now, as he watched their exchange, falling a step behind Shunsui as he skipped to catch up with her.

"Shunsui!"

She drew level with her two friends, grin not flickering even slightly as Shunsui took her hands in his, pressing them up against his chest.

"I've been thinking long and hard, Yoruichi, about my life."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and Jyuushiro sighed. He really wasn't going to go through with this, was he?

"Is that so?"

"I am old enough now to start seriously thinking about what I want out of life. Professionally, I have done everything that I can. I have reached the top of my game, unless I had ambitions of becoming Captain-Commander, which I think looks like far too much trouble. Then, I should want a wife, a beautiful woman who I love and who loves me back. But then, I think, I love every beautiful woman that there is in this world, and so in some ways I am married to every single one of them, and so to pick only one would be an unfair denial of my love to them."

She nodded, seriously, as Jyuushiro slapped his forehead at that typically Kyouraku logic.

"Shunsui, that is terrible reasoning."

It didn't appear like either of them were listening to him, to Jyuushiro's conternation.

"What comes after that, I hear you thinking? I need an _heir_ to carry on my noble spirit and my bloodline, don't I? And so, a child I must sire. And you, Yoruichi, the most beautiful of all noble and brave women, the most wonderful and precious of women- will you have my child?"

Jyuushiro was staring at him in horror. Oh God, he really had done it, hadn't he? He couldn't help his startled-yelp of a response come out, and Shunsui turned around to face him, with a pleading look in his eyes.

"What?"

"Jyuu-chan! I want a _baby_!"

"Are you honestly being serious?"

"You could be an uncle!"

"Shunsui!"

They rounded on Yoruichi, having temporarily forgotten the uterus- urr, the woman. She stared at him long and hard for a moment, before throwing her arms around him.

"We will make such beautiful babies!"

Jyuushiro wondered if this would class as a reasonable excuse for defecting from the Gotei13.


	282. Swept

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Rukia and Hanatarou

Because he needs more love. It's like Neville Longbottom.

**Swept**

He was sweeping the floors of the hallway when she woke up in her hospital bed feeling strangely refreshed, awake, alive: her memory of the last few days was a little hazy, but she remembered blood, and her brother suddenly being there, and Ichigo, and being sure that she would die, and, and, and... Aizen. She sat up as events came flooding back to her, but then fell resolutely back against the pillows, not sure if she really wanted to see what on earth the Seireitei looked like at the moment.

Then the rhythmic sound of sweeping came to her ears, and she craned her head to see through the partly-opened door.

"Hanatarou!"

She leapt from the bed almost before he was protesting that she should not be doing so, reaching him in the corridor but not quite being able to hug him, because though she had been filled in on his help and remembered his kind face she really didn't feel that she knew him well enough to embrace him. Instead, she did the only thing that she could think of, and reached for his dustpan.

"Can I help?"

"You need to be in bed, Kuchiki-san! Y-you should be resting!"

She swatted that concern away with a toss of her hand, and got down on her knees in her hospital gown, indicating that he should start sweeping his small pile of plaster dust into the pan.

"Where did this come from?"

"T-tremors, from all the fighting and… disruptions, they shook the building, and cracked the ceiling."

She frowned.

"I don't remember that."

"Y-you were in the eye of the storm, so to speak, Kuchiki-san. It's only u-understandable."

"Hey, Hanatarou, call me Rukia?"

He nodded a little blushing.

"Ah-hah."

They lapsed into silence as he carried on his task. When the pan was full he helped her to her feet and carried it off somewhere, leaving her to climb back into bed at his stuttered insistence. He came back a few minutes later, to check that she had done as he was told.

"Thank you, for helping me, R-Rukia."

She rolled over to face him, and took his hand in hers for a moment, squeezing it tight as she smiled earnestly up at him.

"I don't think I said it before, Hanatarou, but thank _you_."


	283. Just

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Komamura x Starrk

**Just**

It wasn't fair, Starrk thought, that Sajin could not see just how truly good a person he was, how selfless and kind and wonderfully beautiful; how unfair it was that he had always been made to believe otherwise. It wasn't fair, Sajin thought, that Starrk had finally found a person separate from himself that could love him, and that longed to be with him always, and yet through unfortunate circumstances could only see him at irregular intervals, through the bars of opposition and different sides of a damn war that shouldn't have mattered, it was so long-gone.

It wasn't fair, that they each found the person who understood their grief and loneliness so completely on the other side of enemy lines.

It wasn't fair, that their encounters were snatched moments of time when they could escape to worlds in between the ones that they resolutely belonged to, and could not leave.

It wasn't fair, that though they longed never to be apart, that events had to transpire the way that they did, and that they had to be who they were.

But then, it wasn't fair that Sajin had been born into a body that caused so many stares, that caused him so much sadness and self-loathing, and it wasn't fair that Starrk had been given such a power that could only ever inspire the deepest sorrow and lonesomeness. They reached for each other, and thought of all that was and was not just in the world.

Their hands met, their loneliness abated, if only for those briefest of moments, and they remembered who they were.

And when had there been any fairness in their worlds, anyway?


	284. Baggage

For Stonecreek, who wanted to see a companion piece to 234, 'Chances'.

Yoruichi, Soifon x Ichigo

**Baggage**

Yoruichi watched them dance around each other with affection and a little bit of amused concern, her two former pupils. She never would have admitted that she cared so deeply for their welfare, and her interference in their lives was as minimal as she could manage, but it was there, the worry, all the same. She liked to watch, even if her actual interference was limited to lingering watching and the occasional words in the right direction.

The two really were quite precociously precious, for all the emotional baggage that they carried around between them. It was a shame, those troubled thoughts and feelings, because they slowed things down, ruined the pace, and only made for problems.

Yoruichi found it partly an entertainment, the fiasco of a relationship: every time they took three steps forward, they took two steps back. Sometimes their hands met and curled together and sometimes they met in the air, zanpakuto drawn and ready for action. They never stopped, either way: for two people who were so withdrawn, so serious, they could be surprisingly exuberant when it came to each other.

She slapped him, he kissed her. She tried to talk to him, he shied away.

Yoruichi wondered if she should have any of the blame for that: maybe she left Soifon unfairly, maybe she pushed Ichigo into battle too soon. Maybe she hurt them both, in different ways, a little too deep: they had both been too young. Soifon too ready to give up her all for something that she thought of as love, untouchable and unmistakable and undeniable, Ichigo too innocent, not yet ready for a war that he had been forced into, for a mindset that he had found necessary. She had broken Soifon's little-girl heart. She had pushed Ichigo to the brink. Perhaps there was no cure, for things like that.

But then sometimes he kissed her and she kissed him back, and sometimes when she spoke to him his eyes would widen, his smile grow and he would move a little closer to her.

Sometimes she watched them smile at each other in a way that they did to no one else, and it made her glad, to see them happy.

It made her hope that all wounds could be healed, given enough time.


	285. Gentle

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Wonderweiss x Orihime

_Everywhere I went, oh,_  
_I was always looking for your_  
_Bright smile, dark eyes_  
_Smile, dark eyes_  
Josh Ritter

**Gentle**

She had thought that there was nothing here but black and white and blood; disgust and dismissal and burning anger. But then he had poked his head around her door one day (they so often forgot to lock it: after all, where would she go?) and smiled at her, and despite her better judgement, she found herself smiling back, because although she was tired and sad and very much alone there was something terribly bright about that smile that she could not help but respond to.

She asked him his name, but he did not seem to understand her, only made strange gurgling noises in the back of her throat when she told him that her name was 'Orihime'. She supposed that he did not know how to speak, and that saddened her, because she had hoped very much that he might be someone to talk to, someone to ease the ache in her heart. that was less sadness as an acceptance of the inevitable.

He stared at her as she knelt in front of him, and she pointed to her mouth, trying to indicate talking but only confusing him all the more.

His eyes widened, and he pressed his palm to her lips, imitating her.

The arrancar- and how she longed to call him a 'boy', like normal- was gentle. His hair flopped across his forehead and when he saw her smile he grinned right back, and pressed his other hand to her mouth instead. She laughed aloud, and kissed his hand, and after that he tried a third time, with his own mouth, in gleeful mimicry.

He touched the blush on her cheeks, before becoming distracted by a passing dust mote and dancing after it in the moonlight. He slipped out of the doorway as silent as a shadow and was gone, leaving only the ghost of a fleeting joy behind him.

Orihime smiled, and wondered how long those innocent-sweet actions would haunt her.


	286. Heroics

**MORE REQUESTS, PLEASE! I'm running low. :)**

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Grimmjow x Starrk

**Heroics**

Nails, digging into the skin, leaving red and raised lines down backs, across chests, on sweat-slicked thighs. Noises ripping through the air- guttural, hoarse. Blue hair, flashing against white. Black hair, trailing through scarred fingertips. Uniforms, scattered on the floor. Grimmjow tore through the fabric, Starrk slipped them off, let them pool to the floor.

No wasting time.

No heroics.

Bite marks, on throats and stomachs and the softest part of the inner thigh, right near the top. Kisses, sloppy and open mouthed and trailing over skin, down skin, into the most intimate and hidden of places that tasted of warmth and sweat and the indescribable smell of skin.

It was never about anything other than what it was.

Honest.

Sometimes Starrk would wake in the night to feel Grimmjow's body pressed against him, thrumming with coiled energy and tension and not asleep, not aroused, just staring off at the ceiling or at the wall or anywhere but the body next to him.

He never looked back, either.

In fact, he couldn't remember if Grimmjow had ever even said his name.

Then the day came when things went crashing to the ground. Starrk had felt the tension of Grimmjow's final battle in the air. He never moved from where he lay, even as his power flickered and died. He didn't go to him, didn't go to save him or to fight the inevitable or to try and save something that neither had a name for. He just rolled over in bed and sighed, letting his hair fall to cover his eyes.

No heroics.

No denying the end.


	287. Shave

Requested by le car- thank you

Kenpachi x Unohana

**Shave**

Honestly, she didn't like it all that much on the rare occasions that he remembered to shave. Normally he walked around with a four/five/twenty-day stubble adorning his face, making him look messy, rumpled. When he got around to shaving, either because Yachiru got annoyed at the scrape of it when she grabbed at his chin or because Yumichika bitched about 'manly ugliness', his face always felt strangely bare, soft.

She ran her fingers over the cleft of his chin, the line of his jaw, and hoped that it would grow back soon.

Whenever he kissed her, it grazed across her face. She liked the scrape of it against her inner thigh, the way it left risen, red patches on her skin. The feel of it on her neck made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and the knowledge that she walked around work all day with stubble rash covered by a thin scarf sort of turned her on, in a really sly sort of way.

He laughed out loud when she asked him to shave, and told her that he only ever did such a lame-ass thing when the bitching got too much.

She knew that her asking him to do something like that would only make him want to do it even less. It made her smile to herself, as his grin widened.

She had always been devious like that.


	288. Hedonism

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Retsu x Yoruichi

**Hedonism**

Pleasure is the only intrinsic good.

Academics and scholars have debated for centuries the truth of good and bad, of pleasure and pain, and philosophic thought has leant one way to another, stringent rules to Bacchanalian tendencies. Yoruichi believed in the latter whole heartedly, the theory of sublime pleasure and madness, and tried to live her life adhering to that law. Retsu could see the logic of it, too: it was too good doing whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want it.

Sometimes though, that just wasn't plausible.

Captain Unohana had still been unable to abide by any law other than pragmatism. She had never been able to do anything otherwise.

Perhaps that wasn't fair, that Yoruichi had been able to throw off the shackles of responsibility and live life exactly the way that she wanted, but then there were a lot of things in the world that were not fair, and Retsu had never been the sort to grumble at that. She had work. Yoruichi had fun.

That was just the way that it had to be,

However, Yoruichi was more than willing to introduce Retsu to the finer points of having a damn good time. Indeed, she considered it a necessity. That was why, if you stopped by the Fourth Division's Captain's office at a late night hour on any day of the week, you might hear some… unexpected noises.

Let's just say that Retsu couldn't always look at her desk in quite the same way come morning.


	289. Disappear

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Renji x Starrk

**Disappear**

Caught in the act.

His head fell forward, hitting the wooden floors, effectively blinding him to the situation unfolding around him. If there were an award for feeling awkward, he'd have taken the gold. The voice that came from the doorway was shocked, bemused and more than a little embarrassed.

"… Renji?"

He sort of wished that he could disappear. He tried to ignore the warm body underneath him: pointedly, he tried to forget that he was uncomfortably hard.

There was a nose pressed against his throat. Arms shifted around him, trying to get his attention, but failing.

"… Renji?"

The voice this time was different, deeper, and was slightly more hysterical than the first- the sort of tone that suggested the eyes connected to it had just caught sight of something that would burn its retinas and scar their nightmares for the rest of time.

He really, really wished that the floor would open and swallow him whole.

Then a third voice echoed up from underneath him, low and slightly hoarse: even in this situation it was enough to send shivers up his spine, to firmly revive his wilting hard-on.

"Could you close the door? There is something of a draft."

He didn't want to look at Ichigo and Rukia's faces. The door slammed shut behind them as they quickly retreated. He groaned as Starrk's hands ran down his sides, flustered beyond belief and not understanding how Starrk seemed just fine.

"How can you be so composed?"

Starrk shrugged, and shifted underneath Renji's own, adjusting himself within the deep heat of Renji's body.

"With ease. Now, sit up."


	290. Weight

Requested by Tolkien'sInkwell- thank you

Orihime x Byakuya

**Weight**

There was just so much of her.

Not physically, of course (other than in certain areas, and he wasn't complaining about those). But she was so completely and utterly… there.

So much of her, all the time.

The weight of her head on his chest was like an anchor, pinning him to the bed, not letting him escape not just in body but more importantly in mind- with her there, weighing him down, he couldn't drift off into memories or sorrow or any of the deep dark spaces that he sank into when he was alone and without distraction.

She kept him afloat. It was a strange feeling, her buoy of happy thought and word.

His world had crashed around him, everything that he had believed proved foolish, and she had been there, just standing there with a concerned look on her face and warm, soft hands that reached out to heal him without any sort of judgement or resentment for how he had treated her friend, his sister. She was bright, like a lighthouse calling him into port, and even though the shift of the drifting water threatened to pull him down he found himself focused on that light, on that pin-point of meaning.

She had such faith in goodness.

It was quite beautiful, that sheer belief, even if he didn't understand it.


	291. Ride

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Isshin x Starrk

**Ride**

"The war is coming, Isshin. Whether either of us wants it or not."

He nodded, and wished that he would have a smoke: the acrid taste would distract away from the bitter atmosphere. The night air was cool against his bare skin, sweat drying on him. Starrk's head was warm against his bare thigh, his stubble brushing against him and stirring a deep rush of warmth inside him, even through his post-coital numbness.

"I heard about those cars, that you have."

Isshin ran his hand through the dark hair that fell across his leg, and smiled to himself.

Starrk sat up, a little, still frowning.

"Do you think a car is fast enough to get away from here? Away from this place?"

The defected shinigami shook his head at the trespassing Esapda, smile still in place.

"Yes, for now. But running never gets anyone anywhere."

Starrk touched Isshin's hand, tracing a shape that might have been a number across the knuckles and the raised veins before he pressed a final kiss to Isshin's broad solid leg. He stood, and stretched, and sighed to himself. It wasn't as if he had expected any other answer.

"That's true."

His muscles were sore, and he could already half-see the white walls to which he had to return. He was pulling his uniform on as Isshin's words reached him, soft and hoarse against the shadows, a faint rasp that came across as casual, though there was an underlying sadness to them.

"Back to the other side?"

"You say that like I'm on enemy lines when I'm here."

Isshin found himself smiling once as Starrk turned, as he saw that strong face in perfect, moonlit profile. He was practically monochrome in the half-light; the faintest flush of the colour of his skin was all that gave him away, made him seem as if he were not made out of shadows and moonlight. He was paused, framed in the window, about to step out into the air: he was waiting only for Isshin's reply.

"Aren't you?"

"We're no-man's land, you and I. You know that."

Then he was gone, and the room grew a little colder.


	292. South

Requested by le car- thank you

Shunsui x Nanao

**South**

"_Nanao-chan! Let's run away!"_

"_After we finish your back-logged paperwork, okay?"_

"_Nanao-chan! Why don't we go out, get out of the office?"_

"_No, Captain. Let's sign these reports, instead, okay?"_

Sometimes, she had to admit, it was appealing.

"_Lieutenant! Lieutenant Ise! We need your help with this work."_

She could just pack it all in, if she wanted to. She'd write a letter of resignation, pack a bag, get the hell out of the Seireitei, go away somewhere calm and quiet where she wouldn't have to work or do anything other than what she wanted.

"_Nanao, you don't mind helping me out with this, would you?"_

They could fly south for the winter, if they wanted to. Follow the sun but never have to rise with it. she could be someone else, someone who didn't always have to frown, who wasn't always focused on paperwork and yelling and organisation.

"_The excess will be dealt with by the Eighth Division" _

He could come with her. She could almost feel the rasp of his stubble around her mouth as he kissed her, the warmth of his hands on her body. She would sleep in his arms. The winter chill wouldn't touch them.

"_Lieutenant, I don't think we're going to make this deadline."_

She would laugh. She would wear her hair down, and people would think that she was beautiful. She would be so happy, and he would look at her in that way that he can, the way that made her weak in the knees.

"_Lieutenant!"_

She would be a new person. A better person. She could almost touch that Nanao-that-wasn't-her, so close, so far.

"_Ise!"_

It was too hard, real life, but if she was with him, if they were always together, then they could be happy, and…

"_Nanao!"_

And… and… and…

"Nanao?"

And then she opened her eyes, and took a deep breath, and remembered that she was just plain, irritable Nanao Ise, who had nothing but her work and her responsibilities. Outside, the first flakes of the winter's snow were falling, already piling up. It was cold, and she shivered, but before she had a chance to wrap her arms around herself the warm weight of her Captain's pink kimono falling around her shoulders.

"Nanao-chan, you need to stop spacing out."

"Sorry, Captain."

A quick kiss, pressed to her forehead; for a moment she could almost feel the southern sun on her skin.


	293. Venus

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Shunsui x Starrk

**Venus**

They lay on a steep bank, side-by-side but not touching. The ground was damp and smelt like cut grass, but the night was warm and every so often Starrk's hand would touch Shunsui's as his fingertips skimmed over the grass.

The dark blanket of the sky was littered with stars, but that wasn't what they were looking for.

"See, that's Venus."

Starrk blinked up at it, following the direction of Shunsui's guesture.

"It doesn't look any different then any of the other stars."

"It's… brighter?"

He raised his hand, so that their arms rested together.

"We don't have stars in Hueco Mundo."

Shunsui's head fell to the side, looking at him, instead. A smile crept across his face, and he leant over to run his nose along the soft crease of Starrk's collar bone.

"I don't want to look at stars."

"I thought that we were looking at planets."

"I don't want to look at those either."

"What's wrong with those?"

"I'd rather look at you."

"Shunsui, will all due respect, that is a terrible line."

"I suppose. S'true, though."


	294. Vacency

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Kisuke x Starrk

Btw, when I say 'cheap Mexican labour', I mean Chad, not a racial slur.

**Vacancy **

"I heard you've got a vacancy?"

Urahara looked up, eyes widening just a little at the sight of the arrancar leaning indolently against the doorframe, hands folded and eyebrow raised. An arrancar was a bizarre sight in his shop, seeing as how he was a well-known sort of character, and though he wasn't quite an affiliate of the Soul Society he didn't exactly open up his home to invite Aizen's army over for tea.

If that wasn't odd enough, the fact that it was the Primera Espada was only making the situation more surreal.

He tipped his hat, deepening the shadow, trying not to grin.

"That's right. Manual labour, can you do that?"

The Primera nodded, took a step into the shop, and extended his hand.

"I've done more complicated things."

A fan flickered out to cover a grin that was widening too quickly. Starrk frowned at him, annoyed.

"So… I… err, recognise your face. Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Kisuke, you're ruining it."

He waved his hand in the mimicry of an apology, laughter bubbling over.

"Sorry, sorry. I think my realism gets the better of role-play. All I can think of is why would I employ an Espada in my shop to move boxes? Not when I have cheap Mexican labour that looks so good shirtless…"

Starrk rolled his eyes, and hopped up onto the desk, tapping the wooden counter with his fingers.

"It is odd, I have to admit. So, you think role-play is a bad idea?"

Kisuke's hands slid up his thighs, grazing with his nails.

"Maah, reality is more fun anyway, don't you agree?"


	295. Letters

Requested by le car- thank you

Kensei's letters are in _italics _to make it clearer. Mashiro's are in normal formatting.

Kensei x Mashiro

**Letters**

Kensei! What time are you coming over tonight? I wanna know so I can be sure to get back from the SWA meeting in time =3 M xxxxxx

_Stop leaving these things on my desk. And for the love of god, don't tell those idiot women that I'm coming over. _

But you said I can't talk to you during working hours! How else am I meant to be find out what is going on? And why can't I? Why I can't I tell them? M xxxxxx

_I said, stop it! And you can't tell them because THERE IS NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN US and with those gossiping bitches there will be rumours all over the Seireitei by tomorrow morning. So shut the fuck up! And stop writing me letters! Get on with your work if you've got this much spare time!_

Kensei! Stop being so mean! M xxxxxx

_Mashiro, this is a recruitment form. We need these. You can't just freaking go around writing shit all over them!_

I wouldn't have to if you just let me talk to you! And you're writing all over them too, aren't you? M xxxxxx

_That's your fault, stupid bitch._

And why'd you say that nothing is going on between us, Kensei? M xxxxxx

KENSEI! M xxxxxx

Kensei? Why'd you say that, huh? Stop being such a bastard, or I'll tell all the SWA… M xxxxxx

_Shut up, Mashiro. _

Did you notice that your writing gets all messy when you get mad? M xxxxxx

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP_

Seriously, I can barely read it? M xxxxxx

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP_

You know you're writing this on a recruitment form, right? And folding them up into little paper airplanes is a bit of an overkill, isn't it? M xxxxxx

_Go die, Mashiro._

Hey, Kensei. D'you like that little white thing I wore the other night? I got something similar in black, s'really cute. Got little cut out things, and stuff. Silk. Anyway. What time are you coming over? M xxxxxx

...

_Around eight._

See you then. Love you! M xxxxxx


	296. Scared

Unohana, etc

**Scared**

_Case Study No. 1, example: Ichigo Kurosaki_

"Welcome to you all, to this first lecture on the nature of fear. You have all chosen to take this course with the mind to further expand your understanding on fear and phobias in the human world, and I'm very pleased to see you all here."

Captain Unohana smiled around the lecture hall, completely ignoring the fact that no one had actually chosen to come to this except a few very eager (and generally unpopular) shinigami: the rest had been ordered here, as part of her own division's psychological training programmes. Some of them had been outright forced here, in Unohana's very own special way. You could tell who they were as they were sitting very still, trying to make sure that they did not draw attention to themselves.

She made sure to very obviously ignore the glowering Eleventh Division shinigami, who seemed to be the most unimpressed with the situation, although at her smile they tried to rearrange their faces into something that might better work in making 'that woman' not notice them.

"Now, each week I will require a group of you to make a presentation on one of our case studies who has been kindly volunteered by Rukia Kuchiki, our main representative in the human world. For today, I will present an example of a case study, on one Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Hey, the hell am I on here for?"

"Kurosaki-san, as a pseudo-member of the shinigami forces, everyone knows you, and so you make an interesting first example. Now, if you please."

As the weight of her smile make even Ichigo retreat, the rest gave up hope.

"Now, common fears include the dark-"

"Kurosaki's scared of the dark?"

"Like hell I am!"

"Other fears include blood and pain."

"How exactly could I be afraid of blood and pain?"

He was completely ignored, of course, as Unohana went on to list a load more phobias, some embarassing, some just plain strange. Thus proceeded the most horrific hour of Ichigo's life, as he was subjected to just about every cat-call in the book. However, just when he thought that it couldn't get any worse, the topic of the lecture turned back to him again.

"Now, we couldn't find any particular phobia of Ichigo Kurosaki's except for a rather unfortunate problem with ice-skates. Now-"

The rest of what Unohana said was completely ignored, as a lecture hall full of people turned to stare at a mortified Ichigo.

He slammed his bright red face into the desk, wondering if fighting Aizen again would be better than the humiliation he was going to face as soon as this lecture was over.

By the expression of glee on Renji's face, he thought that maybe the near-death thing might be more fun.


	297. Quirks

Mayuri and Kenpachi

**Quirks**

_Case Study No. 2 - Karin Kurosaki_

"Oi, bastard."

Mayuri did not bother turning around, as he was pretty sure that it would only further antagonise the already annoyed-sounding Kenpachi.

"I need ta ask you a few questions."

Mayuri sighed to himself, giving in on the task of ignoring him, and slowly swivelled around in his desk chair, wondering when his security would prove enough to keep out an irate Eleventh Division Captain on a mission. It seemed, not yet. The massive bulk of Kenpachi Zaraki looked a little odd, and it took Mayuri a moment to realise that it was because of the distinct lack of Yachiru on his shoulder.

In his giant fist was clutched a folder: Mayuri recognised it to be of Fourth Division origin, but before he could hypothesise any further on what it was he found it open and thrown onto his lap. Inside there was a standard investigative case photograph of a young girl with short, dark hair and an annoyed expression that reminded him of someone that he could not quite place. There was also a photograph of what appeared to be a book cover.

"Now, I need ta know: have you, or have you not, ever been to some place called Derry?"

Mayuri raised a perfect eyebrow as he noticed what appeared to be a copy of that same novel tucked underneath his arm, well-thumbed and dog-earred. To his surprise, there were also several post-it notes stuck out at various points, as if to indicate some sort of research.

"No, Zaraki."

"I'm gonna have to make this clear- this girl, here-" and he pointed at the photograph, "claims her biggest fear is of this Pennywise loser from this book, right? And I can't help but notice that he shares a pretty damn remarkable resemblance to you."

"Are you comparing me to a fictional villain, Kenpachi?"

The other nodded, completely serious.

"You share some of the same freaky quirks, alright? And if you don't stop fucking around with American kid's heads, then I'm gonna sort you out, because it's pretty fucked up you, you know? Now, if I hear any more reports from America or anywhere else about this kind of thing, then we're gonna have words, alright?"

Mayuri wondered whether or not he could get away with slipping Zaraki a sedative, but before he managed to reach for the syringe that was conveniantly and pragmatically stored nearby he was met with a large finger pointed directly at him.

"And if I see you anywhere near Yachiru with a balloon or any shit like that, then I ain't gonna tell her to hold back."

Mayuri blinked as the Captain slammed out of his division.

He couldn't help but wonder just what this 'Stephen King' person had got him into.

_(FYI- in case you didn't get it or are not familiar with it, the book is Stephen King's 'It')_


	298. Cellar

Kensei and Kisuke

**Cellar**

_Case Study No. 3 - Yuzu Kurosaki_

"Hello, Kensei."

The Vizard nodded at Urahara as he emerged from the training grounds to pour himself a drink, and raised an eyebrow at the neat file resting on the table, recognising the Soul Society emblem.

"What's that?"

"Oh, just something that my contacts picked up. It's dear Unohana's latest set of lectures, it would appear, and this one is based on one of Ichigo's sisters."

Kensei shrugged, not really listening, but Urahara's eyes gleamed.

"This one is about arachnophobia. You know… fear of spiders."

It was almost imperceptible, but Kensei stiffened.

"Apparently it's quite a common fear. Say-" and here he changed the topic of the mostly-one sided conversation with a fluency of practise, "Would you mind going into the cellar for me?"

Kensei put down his glass of water with just a little bit too much force.

"The… the cellar?"

Urahara's grin widened underneath his hat as Kensei turned white.

"That's right."

"Can't uh, Hiyori, or someone, do it for you?"

Urahara shook his head slowly.

"No, you're perfect for the job. Just watch out for the cobwebs, ne, Kensei?"

He chuckled to himself, thanking god for Hiyori's habit of selling on useful information in exchange for favours. Kensei made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and Kisuke wondered if perhaps he would be punished one day for using people's phobias against them for his own amusement.

Ah, it was totally worth it.


	299. Lemon

Ulquiorra and Yammy

**Lemon**

_Case Study No. 4 - Tatsuki Arisawa_

Yammy held the neat folder in his hands with a bemused expression. It looked amusingly small in his grasp, and he turned the page cautiously, in case it was some sort of trick. Most people would not consider a folder a trick, but thought process tended to take a little longer in Yammy's brain, so he took a little more caution with things.

There were several pages of detailed reports and images.

Yammy stared at them for a while.

A little later, Ulquiorra found himself face to face with a two pieces of wood, hammered together in the vague shape of a cross, held out by a glaring Yammy.

He stepped around him, wondering what that was all about.

The next day, he turned a corner to find an even grimmer looking Yammy shining a UV light into his path. Once more, he stepped around the circular beam on the floor in case it was some sort of trap, without a word. Yammy's frown deepened at this. Ulquiorra was only managing to convince him all the more of his theory.

A little later, Ulquiorra made the only expression that he had ever made in his life as a slice of lemon was shoved in his cheek.

"What are you doing?"

Yammy grunted, and pulled back. To his surprise, he realised that Ulquiorra's eyes were wide, and his mouth was open.

"I'm checking to see if you're a vampire."

"With a _lemon_?"

Yammy blinked down at it, confusion evident in his face.

"I thought it was garlic."

Ulquiorra stared at him for a moment, before his expression slid back into it's normal look, and he walked away in intimidating silence. From around the corner, Gin's smile appeared to be even wider. His boredom was successfully averted: he knew that planting the report he had smuggled over would prove amusing.

As for Yammy, he read a little further into the file, and spent the next few weeks wondering how he could get Ulquiorra into the sunlight, just to see if he would sparkle.


	300. Admit

Orihime and Rukia

**Admit**

_(Two weeks earlier)_

_Case Study No. 5 - Keigo Asano_

"Is he serious?"

"It is Keigo, you know."

Rukia put down the final book in the series that Orihime had leant her, pulling a face as the lame final three words in the last book. They were something of a let down, she had to admit. With a groan of annoyance she picked up the folder that was causing this contention, rolling her eyes at the picture of Keigo that they had on file, in which he looked something like a sick frog.

"But, this is what he has listed as his phobia? I thought that they were all pretty reasonable things, until now."

Orihime felt obligated to object on their sort-of-friend's behalf.

"Well, he _is_ sort of scary."

Rukia looked at him in disbelief.

"He's a fictional character! A fictional character with a snake-face and a pretty unhealthy obsession with a teenage boy! He has a pet snake and waves a bit of wood around to shoot sparks at people! He is not intimidating, in any sense of the word."

"I suppose it's a psychological thing," Orihime offered lamely, not really believing it herself.

There was a long pause.

"I have to admit, I think I made a mistake in asking Keigo to join this survey. Do you think it would be best to cut him out?"

Orihime pulled a face of agreement, and nodded.

"Maybe that would be for the best."

_Case Study No. 5  
Name: Keigo Asano  
Age: Fifteen  
Residence: Karakura  
Occupation: High School Student  
Listed Phobia: Lord Voldemort_


	301. Dismay

Komamura and Iba

**Dismay**

_Case Study No. 6 - Sado Yasatora_

"It says here, Captain, that this Yasatora guy is scared of some Western fairy story, about some kid and her grandmother and a wolf."

Komamura put down his pen, and looked up in interest at his Lieutenant.

"What is it about?"

Iba examined the file carefully, squinting his eyes at the small text.

"Sounds like some kid gets sent into a woods, and a wolf eats her Grandmother, and then a woodcutter saves her. The wolf is called 'The Big Bad', which seems like a pretty stupid name to me, y'know?"

"So the wolf is portrayed as the evil character in this?"

"I guess so."

"And this… Sado Yasatora is scared of this story."

"Apparently, sir. The girl wears some bright red coat, which doesn't make any sense- if she was going through a dangerous area, it's a pretty crap disguise."

Komamura grunted, looking down at his large, gloved hands.

"I see. Iba?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you find me a figure of fear?"

His Lieutenant looked at him in dismay, clearly unsure about how to respond without sounding too over the top.

"Hell no, Captain."

Komamura looked thoughtfully out of the window for a moment, before turning back to his office.

"Do you think it would be amusing if I went to visit him?"

Iba blinked. Was his Captain joking?

"Maybe, Iba, you could wear a red hood. I think the colour would look quite fetching on you."

His Lieutenant really wished that he hadn't started this conversation.


	302. Hysteria

Hisagi and Momo

**Hysteria**

_Case Study No. 7 - Uryuu Ishida_

"Hisagi? I have an important question to ask you."

She stared at him with total concentration and a focus that was a little bit unnerving. Hisagi shuffled awkwardly as she pointed to a chair and made it clear that she wanted him to sit down. It wasn't that he didn't like Hinamori, it was just that she could be a little creepily intense sometimes, and she had that expression on her face: the one that made him want to duck for cover.

"Umm… sure?"

They sat opposite each other, and she folded her hands across her lap, a folder tucked under one arm. He lamely tried to make conversation as he caught sight of it.

"Ah, what have you got there, Hinamori?"

"Is your zanpakuto death?"

"What?"

Her eyes were a little bit wider now, and she opened up the file and pulled out a picture. He was already trying to figure out the best way to escape.

"This is Death."

Hisagi had to admit that it did look quite a lot like Kazeshini. Still, Momo was getting _really _scary again, and he didn't understand where this conversation was going. There was the faintest hints of hysteria in the tone of her voice, and it made him distinctly nervous.

"Momo, why are you doing Captain Unohana's fear programme?"

She shook her head.

"I'm not, I just found this on the street and needed to make sure that you're not hiding anything serious from all of us. Because you know, secrets are the worst things to have from those people close to you."

Hisagi nodded again, slowly, and wondered when Unohana had started neglected to keep an eye on Momo. Her voice was growing higher in pitch and more wild with each passing moment. To his relief though, she stood up, and made to leave. However, in the doorway she stopped, and turned around, glaring at him with a sneering mouth that looked as if it belonged in some cheap thriller film.

"But remember, Hisagi… I'll be watching you."

He blinked after her, and then sighed, trying to mentally prepare himself for what would no doubt be at least a month of intense stalking.

After a moment he glared down at the hilt of his zanpakuto, muttering to himself.

"This is all your damn fault."


	303. Authority

Toushiro and Matsumoto

**Authority**

_Case Study No. 8 - Mizuiro Kojima_

"Matsumoto, I still fail to understand why I have been selected for this programme and you have not."

"That's because, according to this, you are not 'fully capable of dealing with the emotional and psychological aspects of a character'."

"What the hell does that have to do with doing my job?"

"Well Captain, apparently it's vital for you to be able to 'assess the complex and demanding variations in the way that people think, to be able to fully understand their motivations and thought processes'."

"What does that even _mean_?"

"Captain, you're yelling again."

Toushiro rested his head in his hands, giving in to the inevitable pestering of his Lieutenant as she waved the titled 'Yell-Jar' at him. He still didn't understand why he had to put in money each time he yelled: he was the Captain, god-dammit! He should be allowed to do what he wanted- including ducking out of on of Unohana's programmes. Especially considering that he didn't even get why he had been selected for it. But still, he supposed that he had better go along with it or else face the wrath of Unohana.

"Hey, Captain?"

His voice was testy and sharp.

"What now?"

"Apparently this boy is scared of ghosts."

"And what am I supposed to do about this ridiculous, irrational fear?"

"I don't know, Captain. Assess it, I think?"

Toushiro, irritated beyond belief by this chore that he did not think he should have to do, resisted a grin as a devious thought occurred to him.

"Matsumoto, call for our tenth seat. You know, the small pale one. Get a sheet, a white one, and organise a pass to the living world."

It took her a moment to catch on.

"Captain, isn't that an abuse of your authority? You actually plan to scare this boy?"

He nodded.

"Yep. Hopefully, into complaining loudly enough to stop this programme."


	304. Insane

Kira and Renji

**Insane**

_Case Study No. 9 – Orihime Inoue_

"Frankly, this fear is insane."

Renji nodded, staring at the paper. He had asked Izuru for his help on this project for the simple problem that he had no idea what it was about: all Rukia had done when he had admitted that was hit him over the head and tell him he was an insensitive idiot and needed to learn how to be compassionate to people's fear. His response had been to tell her friend to sort out her head, but that had only gained him even more abuse.

So he had gone to the only male friend he had who was even close to sensitive: and considering who he hung out with, that wasn't saying much. He went with a copy of the specific Hitchcock film that had made Orihime's phobia list, and a sceptical expression on his face.

"Seriously?"

The two sat before the television that Rangiku had had set up in her rooms, staring in utter bafflement at the flapping wings on screen.

Renji shook his head.

"That girl has problems."

Kira nodded.

More birds flocked.

"Great rack, though."

_(Urr, 'The Birds' is a flick by Hitchcock. Now I'm writing these they don't seem as obvious as I thought they would...)_


	305. Court

Aizen and Gin

**Court**

_Case Study No. 10 – Chizuru Honsho_

"Gin, I know you were responsible for that lemon incident."

Aizen's companion nodded, grin not faltering even slightly. He was, in fact, still quite proud of the event in question. Aizen crossed his legs on his throne, and nodded at the file that had been delivered to him from Yammy that morning.

"I would like to see one of these files, a different one. I'm sure that you have some, don't you?"

As if he had known that this would come about and had prepared for it specifically, Gin pulled a file out of his sleeve with all the flourish and the self-satisfaction of a magician.

"This particular lady is afraid of a character from history and gothic legend called the Marquis de Sade, it seems."

"An odd thing to list as your phobia, isn't it?"

"Apparently she dislikes men in their every form, and according to Unohana's research he fills the bill of her most despised type."

Aizen's grin was widening as he remembered a different time in his long and illustrious history, a time he spent in the human world, in Europe. He chuckled to himself at the memory. Great castles and bloody nights in had been all the range in France, back in his younger and less directed days. The Marquis de Sade, as Unohana had recorded, had done some pretty atrocious acts of sadistic horror that made a lot of people turn white, and feel a little ill.

Aizen's expression was definitely a smirk now, and he closed the folder decisively and got to his feet.

"Ahh, to be young again. Do you think I should go and court this young woman, Gin?"

For the briefest of seconds, Gin's eyes opened just a slit, and flashed in the white light of Las Noches.

"To instill such a nightmare in the mind of a young innocent? I think that would be an excellent idea."


	306. Fidelity

Requested by le car- thank you

Urahara x Yoruichi

**Fidelity**

He wasn't afraid to admit that he worried, even though he knew that he never had to. It was a stupid thing, he knew that well, but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling the way that you do: if he had a choice, after all, he probably wouldn't have fallen in love with a person like her. Yoruichi spent time at the Shoten, in and out of her cat-form, and when she was there Kisuke could rest safe at night, although generally that was just because the feeling of her body pressed so tight against his that there might not have been even a little air between them.

Her skin was so hot, against him.

If he had a choice in it, he would have fallen in love with a girl more like Soifon: someone cuter, someone who he could wind up and who had a spark of anger that manifested itself without composure: unlike Yoruichi, who never seemed to act in any way other than with complete calm, self-possession. Even when she having fun, she always knew what she was doing, completely.

Soifon would never leave the side of the person that she loved, either, unlike Yoruichi.

And yet he knew he couldn't help it, knew that there was nothing that he could do.

But he still didn't know where else she might be, at any other time, and there was nothing that he could do about it, nothing he could say or ask or figure out.

She kept coming back, though.

He held on to that: every time she lay in his bed, too hot against his body, he knew that she would always come back. And no matter what else was out there, no matter what wonders there were to see and who else there was that might have been a better catch than him, it was his bed that she stayed in.

Every time she stopped, she stopped with him.

That was enough, he thought, for tonight.


	307. Wooden

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Szayel x Starrk

**Wooden**

He didn't understand Szayel's world. It was unreal, a landscape of hard shine, of steel and the bite of lab tables and pointed bone. Metal and flesh, bare and broken and spilt out across a table, an open dichotomy or skin and blood and tearing muscle.

Starrk felt wrong against his background: too much of an organic anomaly. Not quite skin and bone: he was something older, something thicker, something like a great, almost fossilized tree, stretching out and high and tall towards a sky that he could never quite reach.

Wooden sometimes, that was it: a great, malleable puppet as he stared upwards through a veil of pink hair that was not his own.

There was the cold metal of the lab table underneath his back, a hot body pressed flush and tight against him, spread over him.

There was heated concentration, solid anti-realism, and nothing felt right.

Szayel fell on top of him, panting, and Starrk stared up at the ceiling, the moans wrenched out of his mouth feeling oddly abstract, as if they were not his own.

The roof was clean white, a flawless space: he could not help but wish that he could see the sky.


	308. Haunt

Requested by le car- thank you

Shinji x Hiyori

**Haunt**

She remembered a few years back, she had a place that she used to go, hide out. It had just been an old, disused storeroom, but it had been hers, and it had been a good place to go and vent her anger on long-forgotten boxes and dusty walls. She called it her haunt. It had been one of her favourite places in the world.

Here, in the living world, she had a new one, where she would retreat day after day to hide away from the pressures that the other Vizards seemed to cope with so well. She didn't understand how they all managed to do it, how they all could always look so well: how, although none of them seemed particularly happy, they all looked as if they were coping.

She thought that no one noticed that she escaped sometimes, but she was wrong.

Shinji was a hell of a lot more observant than he let on, and though he would never have admitted it, he was worried about Hiyori. She was pale, and drawn, and he didn't want her sadness to turn her to a ghost. He had seen it happen before, to people. So he followed her, and saw it: just a room in a derelict warehouse, something that might once have been an office or something but now only contained an old desk: she sat crouched underneath it, in the part where normally a person on a chair might put their legs.

He bent down, and nodded to her.

"Get the hell out of here, Shinji."

"What'cha doing there, brat?"

She shrugged, all curled up into herself and tired looking.

He rolled his eyes and signed, but he still sat down next to her, knocking his head on the desk by accident. She looked tired, he thought, and a little sad: she pressed her closed fist against his cheek, as if she were hitting him. He took a hold of it, and refused to let go.

"Hiyori- after all these years, you think you're any good at hiding things from me?"

A smile cut through her expression, and though he knew it was selfish, he was glad: it made him feel a little better.


	309. Quaint

Requested by Rabid Fangirl21- thank you

Gin x Starrk

**Quaint**

Perfectly quaint, making perfect sound.

Gin leant over the tensed and kiss-tender body, and dipped his tongue into the Primera's navel. The outline of Starrk's handprints were imprinted onto his hips, red and threatening to bruise. He liked that Starrk did that, every time: in fact, he liked every idiosyncrasy that Starrk had, every singular expression and every beautiful, individual noise. It was just too good, the way that he did things. The way that his hands moved and the way that his fingers skimmed over the jutting bone of Gin's ribcage.

The way that he whispered words that Gin couldn't hear, over and over again, as pleasure wracked through him.

Gin always liked the fact that he couldn't hear what Starrk was saying.

It felt better that way.

And sometimes his smile would falter, for a moment, as he thought he saw shadows mass in one corner of the room and it turned out that it was not Starrk when he had thought that it was: he had always expected that people would become dependant on him, and (of course, Aizen being an exception) they always had. But Starrk was always so distant, so far away even when he was there, that it made Gin wonder.

What was it about this man that stopped him from falling in love?

What was it about this man, that though he longed for someone to ease his loneliness, he still pushed everyone away?

It was masochistic. He kept Gin interested. It was a beautiful skill.


	310. Breeding

Requested by Nadie- thank you

Kazeshini x Benihime

**Breeding**

"This is breeding the mayhem, isn't it?"

Kazeshini enveloped Benihime in an embrace of black night and shadow, and she smiled into it as her eyes filled with darkness and red, bright light like the embers in the middle of a fire.

"Breeding mayhem, huh?"

But not the flame, she thought- yes, he made her think of embers, the slow and maddening heat that you couldn't dampen down. The sort that looks tameable, the sort that looks wild but manageable: that was what she had thought when she had first caught sight of him, just a slip of a silhouette of black against the light, airy confines of her world.

Just another one, pretending to be so much stronger than they were. She'd seen thousands before, cocky, so damn sure that they were the greatest thing in creation: they never were. They always fell in a moment.

But he… he was different. His reputation was justified.

She laughed, and his body moved with her rhythm.

"I never said in a bad way."

She burnt her hands on him. She'd forgotten that it was that hot, deep down there in the ashes of madness.

Mayhem. That was the right word.

He laughed, now, only she did not understand what he was laughing about: he just stared at her as if he were stripping her skin away from her and threw his head to one side and the other, as if he were shaking ashes from his mind.

Her hair fell in waves down her back, and he curled his fists into it, the echoing sounds of screams and laughter surrounding them.

Utter mayhem.


	311. Precious

Requested by le car- thank you

(The first line is a line from the song 'Precious', by Depeche Mode)

Gin x Rangiku

**Precious**

Precious and fragile things need special handling.

Unfortunately, she had never been very good at handling anything, let alone those who needed delicacy.

No-one ever thought of Gin as being the type of person who needed bubble-wrapping, but then there wasn't anyone who knew him the way that she did. She saw the way that they looked at him in the Academy: she could see the way that they avoided him, too, and they didn't realise that, underneath his eerie expressions and his discomforting ability to look right through you, he was still just a young boy. Just a young boy with too much blood on his hands and too few people to understand him.

She cared deeply for him.

She didn't think it was enough.

And she wished that she could do more for him: she wanted to teach him how to talk to people without making them flinch away. She wanted to make everyone see that there was more to him than what they thought, but the problem was, she didn't know how.

And, as much as it shamed her to admit, there was a very deep rooted part of herself that didn't want to try.

It was too hard, and he never complained anyway. Besides, if everyone learnt to love him, then perhaps it would make it a little less special, the tiny world that the two of them shared, locked away from everyone else.

And so she held his hand when they were alone and kissed him, and taught him how to kiss her back, and hoped that it was enough just to give him that.


	312. Nerves

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Matsumoto x Ukitake

**Nerves**

She had never been bashful before. She had never been this nervous, but then, she supposed that he wasn't like any other guy that she had ever been with. She didn't have any problem landing normal men, men who knew chivalry as some far off concept that they touched on quickly before moving on to the more entertaining aspects of a relationship.

And she meant relationship in the _loosest_ sense of the word.

But Captain Ukitake took things slow. He made little gestures that meant a lot, and he never did anything untoward or unprompted.

It made her nervous.

She never knew what to do when he was around: he made her shiver just with a smile, made her happy just when he spoke to her.

She bit her lip just when she thought about him.

And whenever she made a move on him, she would find herself feeling too uncomfortable to go through with it, as if she were breaking some rule that no one had explained to her or crossing a line that she could not see. It left her wrong-footed. It left Shunsui laughing, as he watched her dance to a tune that she didn't even realise that Jyuushiro was playing.

The sly old dog had always been good at that, he couldn't help but think as he raised a silent toast to the two of them as he watched her nearly drop a folder when he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.


	313. Hole

Requested by cy-grl- thank you

Grimmjow, Gin, the rest of the Espada

**Hole**

There were specific types of torture engineered to create the most exquisite sort of pain imaginable: physically and mentally, there are some people who are just born with the ability to make people suffer.

Gin was one such person. And Gin was bored.

This rarely makes for a very good combination.

When the Espada were summoned, not to the throne room but to one of the ante-chambers, perhaps they should have felt more curiosity, more trepidation. After all, it wasn't like Aizen not to look down on them in his amicably self-satisfied way from his podium.

No, that wasn't like Aizen at all, but that might have been because it wasn't their Lord and Master who called them.

Grimmjow sloped in late. He could have made it in time with ease, but had perfected the art of turning up late enough for Aizen's meetings so as not to appear aggressively rude enough to warrant too much of a punishment, but to make it clear that he didn't like orders. He blinked as he came in, not at the sight of the ordered line of Espada (with an obvious space between Jiruga and that piss annoying Septima) but more at Ichimaru, who seemed to have a hand shoved right through Ulquiorra's chest: after a moment of joy-that-the-fucker-was-dead mixed with shit-I-didn't-get-to-kill-him, Grimmjow realised that it was just through his hollow hole.

Still, weird.

"I don't get it," Gin was complaining. "Why does it feel so cold?"

The Cuatro said nothing, and there was not even the faintest hint of a wince as Gin yanked his hand out again, only to slide down the line as if his feet were oil and shove it back into the Octava, whose eyes widened perceptively behind his (in Grimmjow's opinion) fruity glasses.

"Hah… it is not something I've ever felt the need to research, Ichimaru."

"Maa, maybe you should then, Szayel-chan?"

You could sense the palpable tension from the doorway, and Grimmjow felt the hairs on the back of his head stand on end. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see some of the Espada beginning to frown in thought as they contemplated their own hollow holes: in fact, he could even see that freaking _idiot_ Riyalgo shoving his hole fist inside himself, as if that would ever be a good idea. But now he could even see the Primera fingering the edge of his hollow hole, clearing wondering. And he always came across as pretty sensible.

Grimmjow wondered if he had time to slip out of there unnoticed.

When Gin pulled out the things that looked remarkably like those metal circlets that he'd seen people in the human world stretch out their ears with, only much, _much_ bigger, he decided that yes, it was probably time to leave.

He was quite happy with the size his hollow hole was, thank you very much.


	314. Forfeit

Requested by le car- thank you

Starrk and Lilynette

**Forfeit**

"I dare you to-"

"No."

"But you promised!"

"I promised nothing."

Lilynette pouted, something which would have been a lot cuter and would have had a lot more effect if Starrk hadn't known that she was being completely insincere with it.

"Yes you did- you said you'd do a forfeit if you didn't tell the truth!"

"No, you said that I would have to. I didn't agree to anything."

"Starrk, you used to be fun!"

He made a tutting noise, and sighed.

"You've said that since the very first day you arrived. You should have learnt by now, woman: that argument doesn't work on me."

Thinking that he had finally won an argument, he settled back, only to jump forward quite suddenly when Lilynette up-ended a bucket full of freezing water on his head, soaking him entirely.

"What the hell was that for?"

But she was already gone, cackling with laughter in the corridor.

"Forfeit! Forfeit!"


	315. Struggle

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Hichigo and the Espada

**Struggle**

When Ichigo's hollow finally won control over his King's body, he found himself welcomed rather more enthusiastically than he had anticipated into the cold, blood-soaked embrace of the Espada. They all treated him like some special friend that they had not seen in a long time, trying to make him feel comfortable in the new environment. Actually, they seemed so happy to see him that it was a little unnerving. Even Ulquiorra didn't comment on it or say anything about trash: all he did was blink, once, in the hollow's direction, and that was it.

Yammy gave him a rib-crunching bear hug, and Szayel shook his hand with rather too much enthusiasm. He was invited on a special tour of the Octava's labs, which wasn't a pleasant experience, but it's the thought that counts.

Baraggan nodded at him, and said little else, but Zommari offered him a half-bow, and a word of welcome. The freaky Noveno sat in the corner making strange, bubbling noises, but no one took much notice of him anyway, it seemed. Starrk inquired after his health (after yawning a couple of times) and Harribel showed him to his room with distinct grace and pleasure.

He went to sleep feeling wrong-footed.

However, he was woken three hours later by a struggle in the corner of his room.

"I'm gonna kill him first, ya bastard!"

"Not if I can help it you won't!"

He opened his eyes a crack. At the end of his bed, Grimmjow and Jiruga had gotten into a fight, seemingly about who would wake the hollow up to challenge him to a fight first. Satisfied that their fight would take a while longer, he turned over and closed his eyes again.

He fell asleep to annoyed death threats and swearwords.

Now, that felt much better.


	316. Switch

Requested by Ayase Reincarnated- thank you

Keigo and Mizuiro

**Switch**

"Did you press this switch?"

Keigo shook his head furiously, wishing like hell that he had been paired with someone else to share a room with on this school trip. Not that Mizuiro wasn't his friend- he just never realised that he could be this... intense.

"Did you?"

Keigo took a step back. Mizuiro looked terrifying, eyes wide and furious.

"I am asking you for the last time. Did. You. Press. This. Switch?"

He wondered if he could make it out of the window, but thought that the drop from the fifth floor might be a little bit on the dangerous side. He was brought back from that consideration by Mizuiro, who waved his phone- with it's blank screen- in his face.

"No, Mizuiro! I swear I didn't do it!"

The phone charger was still stuck in the plug, but the switch was flicked decisively to the off sign.

And now, the phone was dead, and he had no time to charge it before they left for the day.

Kiego wondered whether he would survive the day.

From Mizuiro's glare, it was sort of doubtful.


	317. Whistle

Requested by le car- thank you

Ikkaku and Yumichika

**Whistle**

"Will you stop that damned noise!"

A pillow hit him square in the face with more force than was necessary, he thought. He continued to whistle though, just because annoying Yumichika was too much fun to pass up on.

"Ikkaku, shut the hell up!"

"God, what's biting you?"

"Nothing. I just never understand why you find that irritating noise so much fun to make."

"It's called whistling, idiot."

The expression might not have registered with anyone else, but Ikkaku was well versed in the language of Yumichika's face. Not so much because he wanted to be, but because you couldn't spend very long with the flamboyant man without learning how to read the most minute of mood swings.

"Wait… can you whistle?"

Yumichika pouted.

"It is a vulgar practise."

"That means no, then. Look, just purse your lips like this, and blow outwards."

"Ikkaku, I have no interest in learning this."

"Sure you do. Come on."

With an exhasperated huff, Yumichika gave in, and blew. To his surprise, he managed to make something that resembled a whilstling noise, and quite come over by the excitement he punched a fist in the air in a distinctly undignified way.

"See? Told ya that you wanted to learn it."

Yumichika buffed him around the head with the pillow again, but there wasn't any vehemence to it this time. Instead of sharp words, he just attempted to whistle again, this time grinning even wider as it came out clearer and louder. It was the sort of smug self-satisfaction that you can only get from doing something childish and unnecessary but a lot of fun, and he was throughly impressed.

"Listen, Ikkaku!"

Already bored with his friend's antics, Ikkaku sat there and wondered if he hadn't just made a terrible mistake.

Three minutes later, when he was forced to throw the cushion at Yumichika, he conceded that, yes- it was always stupid to teach Yumi annoying things.

As if he didn't know enough already.


	318. Interrupt

Requested by KanaKokeski- thank you

Hyorinmaru and Haineko, Toushiro and Matsumoto

**Interrupt**

Sometimes, Matsumoto annoys Toushiro when she isn't even in the room.

Sometimes, he can't help but want to throw things at her when she isn't even in the _Seireitei_.

People put that down to him being bad tempered. They comment about how grouchy he is, how he needs to learn to have a bit more fun. Some of the braver ones make jokes about how he didn't get his afternoon nap. Of course, none of them do it when he is anywhere near. And they always whisper.

But they don't understand. They could never understand. Because even when Matsumoto isn't around, her zanpakuto _always_ is.

"Hyorinmaru!"

The dragon winces. On a different plane of existence, an exasperated Captain makes the exact same expression.

"Hyorinmaru! Did you miss me?"

A tick in the jaw of the Captain: the dragon turns around and tries to ignore the rather loud creature who is waving at him rather too enthusiastically for him to like.

"Haineko. You are interrupting me."

"All you're doing is floating there looking icy!"

"I am doing more than your insignificant mind could possibly understand."

"Like what?"

By the time Matsumoto is due to arrive (three hours after she was meant to be at work), Toushiro is at the end of his tether and Hyorinmaru is about to kill just about anything that might come to close to him.

"Good morning, Captain!"

"Shut the hell up!"

"What did I do?"

"Oh, if only you knew..."


	319. Share

Requested by Divergent Stairways- thank you

Hichigo, Ichigo and Isshin, Karin and Yuzu thrown in for good measure

**Share**

He let his hollow share his body. He let his hollow share his family.

And didn't he regret it?

Because the thing was, when it came to Isshin, nothing could ever be normal. A normal parent, when confronted with the sight of his son-turned-monochrome, a ghostly apparition with a malevolent streak, would not be so impressed.

Isshin invited the hollow for tea.

All the while, Ichigo was unconscious, but when he woke up and found himself in his head with Zangetsu hovering nearby, he found that he had been locked in. And outside, the hollow, (which he proceded to call all number of insulting names), had taken something of a fancy to the cupcakes that Yuzu had just made, and was playing cards with Karin and his father.

The hollow had a decent hand, he couldn't help but think despondantly as Zangetsu offered him some gnomic and essentially useless bit of philosophical wisdom from behind him. The zanpakuto was clearly unimpressed with this whole situation, not to mention Ichigo's inability to fix it.

Goat-Face was losing terribly. That was just about the only consolation that he had right now. Well, and Karin had punched him in the face when she found the trick ace up his sleeve.

That was sort of the only thing that had made it worthwhile.


	320. Dictionary

Requested by le car- thank you

Keigo x Tatsuki

**Dictionary**

"You're looking for dirty words, aren't you?"

He spun around in his seat, cowering under the unimpressed expression on her face and trying to hide the dictionary at the same time.

"No, I'm not!"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fuckin' pervert."

"I'm not, Tatsuki!"

"Then why are you on the page with 'breasts' on it?"

He stared down at the page with abject horror, the guilt turning his face pink. Damn it, but she knew him too well!

"I'm looking up a different word?"

She crossed her arms, clearly not believing him. Arms crossed, she was clearly challenging him, and as panic gripped him, he realised that he probably wasn't up to the challenge.

"Oh yeah? Which one?"

"Umm…"

"Come on Keigo, this isn't a hard question."

He was flustered. It showed.

"I'm looking up… bread?"

She glanced over his shoulder, smile rapidly turning into something a little more smug and a little more worrying.

"You're on the wrong page. Bad luck."

He stared in glum acceptance at the large book in front of him, wondering if it was fair to blame the book personally. Somehow, it didn't quite seem to work, even to his own logic. But then Tatsuki put her hands on his shoulders, and breathed across his ear, making him shudder. Oh, god.

"You know, Keigo… if you need to see breasts that badly, then maybe you should just ask?"

"What?"

"C'mon, you know you want to. And the caretakers never use the broom closet on this floor."

He looked panicked. He hated it when she played these games- because as much as he wanted to give in to them, he knew that he really shouldn't…

"Not in _school_, Tatsuki. Anyone could walk in!"

"Ah, you're right. Never mind, I'll just go have to go and take my shirt off in there by myself. Of course, that might look a little stranger, but if I pour some water down myself, I'll just tell them that I needed to dry off..."

There was a long silence as she began to walk to the door. With a furtive glance to either side of him, as if the teachers were hidden under the tables with microphones, ready to catch him in the act, he whined his submission and nearly ran out of the room following her, tripping over a chair as he went.

All of which was well worth it, he thought, for the sight of boobs.


	321. Funeral

Requested by Ayase Reincarnated- thank you

Shinji x Hiyori

**Funeral**

People often asked her how long she had known Shinji: since the Gotei, or from before? Had she ever met him in the Academy? Hiyori never answered, just made some pissed off sounding comment about how irritating he was, and how she never would have been able to put up with him for that length of time.

But it was much longer than people thought.

Out there in the Rukongai, in those years that most shinigami try to forget, she had saved his life and he had saved hers and they had watched people live and they had watched more people die in ways that they did not deserve, in ways that they did not understand.

She had held his hand through funerals, whilst bodies were carried past them.

There were some bodies wrapped in cheap sacking, others just thrown into shallow holes wherever they could dig them. Sometimes she had to hold his hand when there was no funeral, when there was not enough people to care about whatever pile of flesh had just met its end.

He had always cried at first; years and years went by, and he learnt not to.

She still held on tight to him. She always got a feeling that he needed it.

And then they had gone to the Shinigami Academy and had worked their way up through the ranks: more and more people died, and soon enough she realised that she didn't feel much for most of them, anymore. Strangers remained strangers. She couldn't empathise with them. But Shinji had always been different: he had always cared too much. It was that, more than anything, that made him a good leader.

Now he had to be composed when faced with death. Duty demanded it.

She still held his hand, though, even though she didn't need to.

And he always squeezed back, just as tight.


	322. Wise

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Nemu and Soifon

**Wise**

"You know, you rely too much on other people."

Nemu turned. She moved slowly but as if she were oil, giving the illusion of complete and utter control.

"I do not believe this is accurate."

Her expression did not flicker, although she registered how unusual it was for this Captain to say anything to anyone- let alone to her.

"You do. You rely on your Captain."

"That is only one person."

Had Nemu been a different person, she might have looked a little smug at that, but she was herself, and so was not capable of such a thing. Instead, she simply continued to stare ahead of her.

"When a person is that important to you, they become more than just 'one person'."

Soifon stared too, although resolutely out of the window. She still hadn't turned to look at the woman- of sorts- behind her.

Nemu remained silent.

"When a person becomes your entire world, then you only look at them, never anything else."

The corridor was growing quieter: the babble of shinigami in nearby places seemed to be dispersing, and an indistinct tension was growing with the silence.

"With someone like that, you never remember to look around you, and what else you could have, or be."

Mechanically, paying attention to detail as she had always been programmed to do, Nemu watched the Captain's grip on the windowsill tighten, and her knuckles turn white.

"And with a person like that, you always forget to look where you're walking."

Suddenly, in a movement so unprecedented that it made even Nemu blink, Soifon span around, and began to walk away, perhaps a little quicker than was necessary. She called back over her shoulder, trying to sound indifferent and not quite succeeding.

"It is surprisingly easy to trip, you know."

Nemu thought about those strange words of wisdom for a short time, before continuing back to the cold labs of the Twelfth Division. Even if the Captain was right, there was still nothing that she would ever do about it.

Perhaps that was the point.


	323. Was

Requested by Ayase Reincarnated- thank you

Hachi

**Was**

All that was, and all that will be, was laid out before him. Hachi smiled to himself, and reached out for both. Kido- or at least, the level of kido that he could use- was more than just incantations and a focus of power. Some of them were _so_ much more.

"For fucks sake Hiyori, will you shut the hell up!"

You had to weave reality and the abstract: some things that people knew and some things that no one had ever conceived of before. You had to have a gentle hand, and an innate ability to second-guess yourself. You had to be able to think on many levels: you had to _create_.

He sighed, and tried to blot out the bickering of his fellow Vizards.

What they didn't understand was the complexity of what he made. He wasn't just sitting there and concentrating when he worked on his kido- he was stepping into the vast frames of worlds that power can manifest itself in. Everyone knew that inside your spiritual being there was a place where your soul lived, the place for that manifestation of your zanpakuto, but what most people didn't realise was that wasn't the end of it.

You could build more. You could build bigger.

Hachi did, regularly.

"Go to hell, you silver haired freak! Get the fuck out of my way!"

Hachi was like god inside of his head. Something majestic, something greater than anything that anyone else other that a Kido master could understand. When shinigami used kido, they never understood the complexities that had gone into creating it: it wasn't just that words had an effect- the words had to be _made_ to have an effect, had to be linked to something first. Even the most proficient, who didn't have to use the incantations, still followed that link that the kido masters had first laid out there.

"Shinji! Get the bitch off me before I rip her pint-sized head off her fucking shoulders!"

He sighed.

Honestly. Were all geniuses expected to work under such conditions?


	324. Town

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Isshin, mentions of various other people

**Town**

Isshin Kurosaki opened his front door and stared around him. The morning was cool, damp but clear: sodden leaves gathered in the gutter whilst still more fell from the trees. He took a step out, and stretched. This place would do, he thought: it wasn't anything incredible, but this small family practise was all he would need to support his growing family.

He smiled.

Walking down the street, he could not help but feel a great and unusual sense of harmony about the world in general. He passed the primary school and craned his head to see if he could catch sight of his son's tell-tale orange hair through a window, but didn't manage it. He carried on, past the shine, where he nodded to a elderly woman who smiled in return.

Life was good, he thought. In fact, life was very good.

It might actually have been the best that it ever had been.

He passed nice houses and less nice houses, and the difference between them didn't register at all. He managed to keep in an even bigger smile as he passed Karakura High- one day Ichigo would go there, and one day after that his youngest child, which was still just a bundle of cells only confirmed the day before, would get to go there as well.

He thought that Misaki might cry a little, the day that Ichigo first went to high school- she had sobbed, after all, when she had dropped him off for his first day, and she was only just used to not having their son trail her around all day like a little lost puppy. It must have been like losing a limb for her, he reflected as he passed the Shoten. Tessai waved at him from where he was sweeping back, and he returned the guesture but didn't bother to stop by today- not that he wouldn't have been more than welcome, but he was in the mood for a walk, and he didn't have long before he had to get back to his practise, and a 'drop in' with Urahara always ended up being much, much longer than five minutes.

It was nice, he thought, having someone nearby who could keep him up to date on the running of the Soul Society, even if Kisuke wasn't technically _meant_ to know anything.

He kept on going, kicking a can as he went.

He had a feeling that the new baby would be a girl- he wasn't sure why, but it was his gut instinct. Either a girl just like Misaki, always trying to please everyone, always affectionate and lovely, or else she would be tough- tough enough to beat up her wuss of an older brother, who still cried every time he fell over and scraped his knees. He couldn't wait to see what she was like. Would she have that strange gene that had given Ichigo his orange hair, or would she have Misaki's? Or even his own?

He stopped by the hospital, and stared up at it, wondering how old Ishida's child was now, how long it had been since his wife had passed away. He shook his head sadly at the thought, and carried on walking.

He was nearly home, and still in a good mood, when he felt the pressure of reiatsu from the middle of town. His instincts flared, and he found his fist clutching air where once his zanpakuto hilt would have been. He stood there for a long moment.

The hollow was behind him. In front of him lay home, and the new life he had built up.

Isshin Kurosaki fought with Isshin Kurosaki.

Father against fighter. Husband against shinigami. Doctor against soldier.

Slowly, his fist released, and he started walking home again.

The problem with making a new life was that you couldn't ever go back to what you used to be. No matter how good you felt as either person, there was no way to forge a harmony between them.

He kissed his wife as she left to pick up their son, and opened up his practise again.

This was his life now, in this town that he called home. This was who he had to be. He had to ignore things like this. He had to move on, until he had settled, until he worked out just how to do both- if he ever would be able to.

He didn't relax until he felt the hollow vanish again, killed by whoever had gotten there first. Then he closed his eyes, and sighed, and remembered a day when it would have been his blade, his sweat, his fight. Just because he had accepted that it would never again be his, didn't make it any easier to let go.

He opened his eyes, forced the nostalgia away, and carried on forging his new world


	325. Lake

Requested by Ayase Reincarnated- thank you

Kensei x Mashiro

**Lake**

"What d'you mean, you don't know how to swim?"

Mashiro blinked, almost a little embarrassed by Kensei's clearly unimpressed tone of voice. Almost, though- she was hardly the sort to be intimidated by her former-Captain, not after all these years.

"If you don't know how to swim, then why the fuck did you insist on coming?"

She shrugged. When Kensei had decided to go by himself on a hiking trip to get away from the confines of their Karakura residence, she had decided instantly to come with him- even if he didn't want her there. When he mentioned that his aim was to find a particular lake to swim in, she still hadn't been swayed. It wasn't her fault that she had never learnt how to swim.

He stood in front of her, frowning. She bit her lip at the sight of him, tall and broad, water dripping off his highly toned torso. She wasn't here just to be annoying, which was what everyone had assumed, but because…

Well, because…

"Seriously, you follow me all the way here and now you're not even going to come in?"

She shook her head furiously, and for just a moment there was the faintest spark of amusement in his eye. Before she knew it, he had reached out, scooped her up, and was trying to throw her into the lake- unfortunately for him, he forgot that despite the fact that she was a bit of an idiot most of the time she was also a high-class shinigami with razor sharp instincts and a great strength: she grabbed hold of him by his shoulders and pulled him in with her.

They emerged in waist deep water, bruised form the rocks. His scowl was back in place, momentary good humour vanished, but she was laughing again.

"Ah, lighten up Kensei!"

He grunted, but held out his hand to help her up anyway. And if she held on for a little longer than was necessary... well, was that her fault? And glancing down at her, if Kensei paid particular attention to the way her soaking wet clothes clung to her, that was hardly his, either.

He almost regretted it when her hand slipped out of his.

"Hey, uh, Mashiro? You need warming up, or else the cold'll get to you."

Without warning, acting as she normally did (i.e, complete reckless stupidity) she threw herself against him.

"Warm me up then, Kensei!"

She pulled back, grinning up at him. By that furious blush, she had the feeling that maybe it was worth the hike up here. Kensei stared resolutely away from her, but the hands that had settled on her hips seemed to say a hell of a lot more.

Mashiro smirked to herseld. Perseverance, and a wet t-shirt- all any girl ever needed.


	326. Burning

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Ukitake x Kaien

**Burning**

Kaien was there the day they lit a funeral pyre for hope.

The day that Jyuushiro stood there, tall and proud in his uniform and Captain's haori, watching a thousand men and women die in front of him in the fall of glowing-explosions and firework-attacks. Just a war, another war: and there had been hundreds. But when he turned around he saw Captain Ukitake there, watching the fight beneath him- there was so much gravity around him, so much sadness.

So much pain, as if these men were the first that the Captain had ever seen die. But then, these were the first he had to look at death in such a vivid light since his Lieutenant died.

He was there the day that they lay a torch to everything good in the world.

And when it was over and he had his wounds bandaged up and the blood cleaned off his face, he went to find him. He wasn't quite sure what to call Jyuushiro- a friend? A friend that made him smile more than anything, that made him blush when he woke up in the night after dreaming of him? Kaien wasn't used to that. He had never seen a man so beautiful- even sat as his desk, exhausted, smile barely there as he tried to cope with the work that his past away Lieutenant couldn't do anymore.

He needed to fill the position, but Kaien knew that it was his fault that he hadn't.

Kaien watched the smoke billow in the air.

He said nothing when he caught sight of that man, that man of sorrow: just closed the door behind him and strode over to the desk. He took Jyuushiro's face in his hands and kissed him, pressed deep and hard as his fingers slid into silver hair.

He sat there and watched Jyuushiro run his hands through the ashes.

He shook his head when Jyuushiro- the man he loved, the man who loved him- asked him to stand by his side, in more than just a metaphorical sense. That first instinct had been not to do it- and not because he didn't want the responsibility, not because he didn't think he was ready, not because of the hundred reasons that he told everyone else: but because he had seen the man he loved stand over too many broken bodies that he had lead into war.

That first instinct- burning, bright- was that he never could let it be him, his fallen form, that brought back not only the sorrow, but also the guilt.

He couldn't do it.

Unfortunately, Kaien Shiba had never been very good at listening to his instincts.

He handed in his acceptance of the position, knowing that it would kill them both.


	327. Fall

Requested by raezura- thank you

Yoruichi x Soifon

**Fall**

She remembered when she first saw her, that first time she caught sight of the girl that would come to own her. She hadn't known it then- how could she, when she had spent so long never looking for anything serious, never wishing for love?

But that first glimpse had shown her something more than what she knew.

Just the sight of that face: that smile, that stare. Oh, that stare- she had fallen for those eyes before she had even known what was happening. So big in her young face, wide and hopeful and adoring. Deep and dark and beautiful, filled with a certainty that Yoruichi had never had to try and inspire. And that was interesting, after all: very few people in this world had such total and utter faith, for no good reason.

They looked up at her with such unprecedented loyalty, such belief- they made Yoruichi believe that she was capable of anything.

Because, when she was with Soifon, she _was_ capable of anything.

She was the strong one. The one who made decisions. The one who moved things forwards.

Even though that, sometimes, was not the person that she actually wanted to be.

And as long as Soifon kept looking at her that way, then she would keep falling. She would fall forever, in fact, breathing just in the hope that one day Soifon would look up and see not a goddess, not someone who could do everything- but someone that, on occasion, needed catching as well.


	328. Eyebrows

Yumichika and Renji

**Eyebrows**

"Renji?"

"What?"

"Where are your eyebrows?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your eyebrows. Where are they?"

"Wha- they're here! Idiot, can't you see them? Look!"

"Isn't that part of your tattoo?"

"What? Shut up! They're underneath the tattoo, obviously."

"But wouldn't they be red? Wouldn't we be able to see them? Oh, I see- you shave them off, right?"

"Hell no!"

"Denial, Renji, it's an ugly thing. Either way, your eyebrows are decidedly unattractive."

"Hey!"

"On the other hand, you do have lovely hair."

"... do I?"

"Oh yes, it's quite charming. Much better than Ikkaku's."

"Fuck you, Yumi!"

"Shut up, Ikkaku. You're just jealous because he said my hair was nicer than you, you bald freak."

"I'm not bald, you bastard!"

Happily, Yumichika skipped away, quite satisfied with the mayhem he had caused.


	329. Zoo

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Hanatarou x Isane

**Zoo**

Isane thought it was a nice idea of Unohana's, to take the seated officers to a zoo, to congratulate them on a job well done. They had all been excited for it, though when she got there, she found that it perhaps wasn't quite as she had expected.

She found it strange that she could see Hanatarou in every animal that she saw.

Even stranger, that she found it quite endearing.

The spider monkey had his quick, clever hands, and the tapirs made a snuffling noise that sounded disturbingly like the sounds that Hanatarou made when he rolled over in bed. The elephants had his deep, doleful eyes, and the black bear had fur so dark that it had a shine of blue, just his.

The otters looked industrious, like him, though the way that the lion cubs tumbled over and over each other as they played reminded her of his clumsiness. The cawing of the bird house made her think of the stupid laugh he had when someone had pressed too many drinks onto him, and the way that _she_ laughed at the way that the penguins walked was a little too similar to how she found him amusing.

That was the point that she started to wonder if she had problems, and went to sit down to have a drink.

Across the zoo, Hanatarou shook his head furiously, and stared again.

No, it was true.

That chameleon really _did _have Isane's nose.


	330. Lion

Rukia x Renji

**Lion**

He winced under her blow, attempting to dodge her flailing limbs whilst holding his towel around his waist and trying really, _really_ hard to not stare at her own towel which was slowly slipping down and the drops of water that were inching themselves down her body.

This was torture.

She fought like a lion, clawing and growling.

She landed a final punch and stood back, panting and victorious as he finally yelled out an apology. He took her by surprise and grabbed her, pulling her into a heated kiss. She let it carry on for a few moments before flouncing back to finish her shower, leaving him uncomfortably turned on.

Her hair was a mane around her hair: knotted and tangled and wet.

He sighed, reminding himself to never finish her shampoo again.

The wrath of a woman was something to avoid.


	331. Pillow

Nanao x Lisa, Shunsui x Ukitake

**Pillow**

"Captain. With all due respect, I am going to kill you if you do not stop annoying me."

"We're here on a break, so just be quiet."

"Ah, I-"

"Shunsui. Lie down."

Shunsui blinked in surprise at that third voice. Jyuu-chan never spoke to him in that tone of voice unless they were playing _that_ game, and he was pretty sure that neither of them was naked at the moment.

"What?"

Ukitake smiled at him in that unamused way that he had perfected over the many years until Shunsui sighed, and did as he was told. The grass of the hillside was warm underneath his back, and from where they were taking a break (by that, read that they were submitting to Shunsui's whim to skip out on work. They would have protested harder, but the day was hot, and he had been sitting in Ukitake's office chanting 'please' over and over for forty minutes) you couldn't see a single building when you were looking up, only the sky.

Ukitake smiled, more soft this time, and lay back too, resting his head on Shunsui's chest. Lisa looked at them both with an analytical eye.

"Hmm. Using him as a pillow, that's not a bad idea at all… Nanao?"

"Oh, hell no."


	332. Mile

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Renji x Ikkaku

**Mile**

Walk a mile in some one else's shoes.

That was what you were meant to do, wasn't it, if you didn't understand what someone was going on about? But frankly, he'd seen the state of the Renji's personal hygiene, and putting his feet into those shoes was just something he was _not _going to do.

Yumichika had tutted at him when he had vocalised that thought, and made some sort of snarky comment about a metaphor, and how it was clear true romance was dead, and something else a bit bitchy.

Ikkaku didn't get it. Romance? What the hell?

Because now everyone was looking at him strangely- and all because of that night when Renji, a bit drunk, had started rambling about the days when Ikkaku had been training him up a bit, when he had been in the Eleventh. Granted, Ikkaku hadn't really been listening to him- he had been trying to flag down someone to bring them all more booze- but all of a sudden he had turned back to the conversation and Renji was bright red, the rest of them were somewhere between adoration and acute embarrassment, and Ikkaku was still none the wiser.

The problem was, no one seemed to believe that he hadn't heard what Renji had said.

"You're in denial, Ikkaku!"

"Gimme a break, no one would have missed _that_."

Missed what? Damned if he knew. He'd only seen Renji blush like once, that time when they were training, and he'd tripped, and…

His eyes widened as light bulbs flickered on in his head.

Well, damn.

He sat there a moment longer, wondering. And then, a slow smirk spread its way up across his face as he got to his feet, wondering just where that damned kid was right now. Honestly, that really did explain a few things, but if Renji had always been thinking… that, then why hadn't he ever said anything?

Tsch. Walk a mile in another persons shoes? Only if you could take them off and club the idiot to death with them afterwards.

Renji always did make it hard for himself.


	333. DeadEnd

Requested by GreatTurtleMcRawr- thank you

Grimmjow x Ukitake, in a sort-of way

**Dead-End**

He was a dead-end kid. He'd figured that out a while ago, lying in white sand with his heartbeat sounding like war drums in his head, blood all over him but the most pain coming from the fact that it was over: he'd been beaten down.

Then there was more white, but not the same sort of white he was used to. This was softer, more of a grey but brighter still, like silver strung so fine that it stopped looking like a metal. He had opened his eyes, and realised it was hair.

Someone leaning over him, as some kid healed him up.

Strange.

Now he was still a dead-end fool. He was still just as much of a loser as he had been back then, and he was still on just as much of a dead-end street. Aizen was gone, the whole damn war had come and gone and he hadn't been on either side of it in the end, too damn unconscious for anyone to care. They'd all thought he was dead, so no one had come after him.

He still wasn't sure why that silver-haired man had given him a second chance.

Part of him wanted to fuck it up again. Part of him wanted to march into the Soul Society, zanpakuto drawn, ready to die all over again because for fucks sake, there really wasn't all that much that made life worth it around here. Just a cross-road, every street off it as dead-end as he felt, surrounded by dead-end opportunities, dead-end rain soaking him through.

But he wasn't going to. Oh, and he wasn't going to go and make good, he wasn't going to go and repent- but he was going to make something worthwhile of himself, something that silver-haired man could look at and think, yes.

Saving him, that was worth it.

And when Grimmjow had done that, when he was off this downward spiral, he was going to find that man, and see if he was as good as he seemed to be.

He wanted to know if that hair was as soft as it looked.


	334. Swallows

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you, as ever

One-sided Renji x Rukia

**Swallows**

Summer sets in.

He realises what love is: it is warm, and bright. Long, golden evenings and haze-blue days. He realises who he loves, and she is everything that he could ever hope to be, everything that he longs to care for, to hold.

She… she is just everything. Always.

Summer stretches out. The swallows fall and dive throughout those setting-sun evenings.

He waits. He still believes.

Sure, she hasn't noticed just yet. But he is still out here, on the sun-dry grass, a warm breeze against his face, just waiting for her to look out through the window and notice that he is sat out here.

The mood is right. It is beautiful.

The swallows are still overhead.

But then time passes, and the birds start to notice a chill on the air. Summer suddenly looks to be slipping away, and he is still sat there, still just as in love as he ever was, but all of a sudden, it doesn't seem quite so beautiful.

And that is hard.

He watches the birds still, but sooner or later, the cold drives them out.

And he's still there, and she is still inside, and he realises that it isn't just that she isn't looking out of the window: now, the curtains are drawn against the shortening days, and there is too much going on in those warm and shadowed rooms for her to remember the street-kid in the back garden, the one sat out in the rapidly cooling nights.

Frost settles in. The leaves fall.

Rukia still doesn't look out of the window.

But Renji knows that this isn't the end of the world: he isn't cold, because love still keeps the worst of the winter away from him, and after all, he still believes. He knows it is only a slender chance, but then, it always looks that way from the desolate white of mid-winter.

One day, summer will come again.

He knows this, as well as he knows his own name and the pattern of his tattoos and the way her voice sounds when she cries.

He knows _her_.

One day, the sun will be warm again, and the sun will last long into the evening. The sun will dry out the grass again and the leaves will be full of vibrant greens, and the swallows will come back, to dance across the sky for him to watch whilst he sits still and waits.

Maybe, next year, she'll look out of the window.

He knows it won't make a difference even if she doesn't: he loves her.

He can't help that.

For now, he'll just have to hope that one day she'll notice.


	335. Soak

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Szayel x Orihime

**Soak**

She soaked in the bathtub, water all around her. Steam moved around her hair, tied up on the back of her head, damp tendrils sticking to the nape of her neck. There was a delicate line of perspiration on her upper lip. Her left knee was just a little out of the water, leg bent: her hands rested on the flat length of her stomach.

There was a breath of a sigh from the doorway.

She could tell that he was watching her.

Orihime Inoue was used to being surprised: that he was there was not something that would have shocked her.

After all, he had been there every day for the last month.

She wondered when he would come out of the white-rock-black-shadow doorway, when he would come forward and claim the strange, silly little human girl that all the arrancar were equally fascinated and disgusted by. She was waiting in a strange sort of anticipation, because he was everything that she despised. He had no regard for life, no regard for pain: he lacked every compassion that she thought vital. The flamboyance of his every action appalled her: the stylised meaning behind every word brought up a temper in her that tasted bitter in her mouth.

And yet, she wanted him to come in. She wanted his corruption.

She wanted to be corrupted.

Because there was a bite underneath her innocence: something that she herself, in her sweet nature and child like thought had not understood. But now the recently opening door of her sexuality was letting things come through that she had never even imagined, and she found that she wanted him.

She wanted to watch him pull off every item of clothing and lie on top of her in the water, body pressed against hers. She wanted to see the body of a humanoid hollow, wanted to feel the lines of his bones and the void of his hole: she wanted to see where the mark of his rank was. She wanted to see if the taste of his skin made her feel as sick as the thought of it did. She wanted the hard length of him inside her.

She wanted to be bad.

Orihime Inoue let her chin slide under the water. It touched her mouth in a warm, silken kiss, and then she started to blow bubbles in such a characteristically childish manner that it made her laugh, and forget that strange darker side of herself for a moment.

But then she looked up, and could see the flicker of his hand out of the corner of her eye.

He reached for her, face a mask of loathing and lust.

The door of adulthood stands wide open. She watches every demon roll through, and smiles to herself.

No one had ever told her that opening Pandora's box would feel so _good._


	336. Wire

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Gin x Matsumoto

**Wire**

Some people thought that you were connected to the person that you were meant to be with, by some sort of thread or ribbon or string. But Rangiku had never believed in that sort of thing. She saw the truth of it every moment of every day.

Oh, not that people were not meant to be with each other. She understood that, she really did: sometimes it was clear that there was someone you were meant to have met, meant to have spent time with, meant to touch and kiss and hold close. She had a person like that, a person who she knew without any shadow of a doubt that she was destined to spend the rest of her life with.

She knew that feeling like this, sometimes, was unavoidable. This was why she had problems with these arguments.

Threads broke, that was her problem. Too thin, too easy to pull apart or cut or snap apart with just the slightest of pressure. Ribbons unwound, pulled apart. They frayed, too, and never kept with the same beauty that they had to begin with. String was ugly, too normal, too banal- nothing about it was special enough to show what true love was.

But it was true that she was connected to Gin by something that she could not see or explain. It was something that pulled her back to him every time she wondered at the danger of knowing him, every time she thought that maybe it would be in her better interest if she stayed away, because even though she thought that he loved her, there was something or someone else that he owed too much loyalty to, too much of himself to, to ever give his full self to her.

Wire, she thought. Impossible to break, with no give on it at all: there was no way that she could stretch away from him. But then, maybe not just wire, because she was sure that loving Gin hurt far more than it should do.

Barbed wire, then.

Sharp enough to hurt, that was what she knew of love. No soft thread, no fraying ribbons.

The most coldly beautiful of all bonds.


	337. Lesson

Ikkaku and the 11th division

**Lesson**

Being in a position of responsibility is all about patience, dignity, respect, compassion and commanding authority.

He stared wordlessly at the new recruits of his division and rolled his eyes. He hated training duty, the downside to holding a high seat.

The shinigami stared back at him, unnerved by this imposing bald man who obviously did not want to be there and the giggling- was that a man or a woman?- sitting on the steps watching them. What was most disturbing was the small, pink-haired child attached to the shine of the bald head, although apparently the man was not aware of the loud and slow chewing.

"One hundred laps of the pitch, now."

"Um, aren't we supposed to be learning military tactics today?"

Ikkaku threw his sheathed zanpakuto to the ground and ran towards his subordinates with his bare fists raised.

"First lesson of the Eleventh, fuck-head. Never question me!"

Ah, well. Patience had never been his virtue.


	338. Resonance

Requested by secundrea-axel- thank you

Rukia x Orihime

This pairing is seriously growing on me.

**Resonance**

Her voice echoed under the bridge: even though she spoke softly, from the other end, it carried through the dark to her.

"Sorry."

Orihime shook her head, always the forgiving one, and smiled, though it was more to herself than to anyone else.

"Why are you sorry? It is hardly your fault."

She reached out but Rukia was still too far away. The distance between them was still too great, so that she could barely even see her: the darkness under the bridge enveloping her so that only the pale oval of her face was visible. Orihime hunched her shoulders, folding her arms, as if that would keep the cold out.

But it wasn't that sort of cold anyway, she thought.

Rukia's voice was gentle, apologetic, and… closer?

"I know. But I'm sorry anyway."

The quiet sound of steady footsteps reached her, and before she knew it they were resonating around her. It seemed to take forever for Rukia to reach her, and soon she was aching for her touch.

It came soon, cool and light on her arm.

"Rukia..."

"I know."

They kissed under the bridge, and even though it had been years, it felt as though it had only been moments since the last time their lips met in heady and breathtaking warmth. Orihime couldn't quite remember how to think: all that mattered to her was that the girl in front of her was _here _now, not a fragment of a transient dream or memory.

She wrapped her hands in the silk-black of her hair.

"Don't leave?"

There was the briefest of pauses, a sigh on the air, and then the faintest of nods. Orihime took her hand, and they walked out from underneath the bridge.


	339. Face

Kira and Matsumoto

**Face**

"See, baby? Look! You've got such a pretty face behind the hair!"

Kira pulled at the ends of his blonde hair in worry, nearly as short as it had been in his Academy days.

He wasn't used to being able to see both his eyes at once.

"Are you sure? It looks kind of…"

"No, your face is good!"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously!"

Kira sighed, and turned back to the mirror, not noticing Matsumoto rummaging through her draw. An evil plan had formed in her mind...

He blinked as something silver and complicated looking waved far too close to his eyes for comfort.

"Hey! What the hell is that?"

"Eyelash curler. And mascara… It'll make you prettier?"

There was a pause.

"Tell no one."


	340. Spring

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

The poem is by T.S. Eliot: the first four lines of 'The Wasteland'

Orihime x Ichigo, one-sided

**Spring**

_April is the cruellest month_

She closed her eyes to the feeling of the rain against her face. It left glass-fragile patterns on the windows and her cheeks, and had she been crying it would have mingled with the tears. She wasn't crying, though: she had long ago stopped crying over the important things. It was far harder to get by when her eyes didn't stay dry.

It had been raining, on and off, for days. People called them April showers. It just made her feel sad. Last year, her and Tatsuki had played in this rain: boots on, umbrella left standing in the hallway. It had made her stop thinking about the bad things, had made her have fun.

_Breeding lilacs out of the dead land _

But not this year. There was never anyone around to see her. Everyone was too busy, too busy to think of socialising. People had work to do, the future to think of. They forgot, she thought, that some of them had no family to tide them by. She wasn't good at being by herself: the years of this being the case had not changed this.

She was still lonely. She still felt young, and scared, and hopeless. It became worse in this weather, bringing forward the emotions that she tried to hide down most of the time and growing in her head until they were all that she could think about.

_Mixing memory and desire_

The worst was the knowledge that nothing had changed. She was the same fool that she had always been. The worst part of it was that Ichigo still didn't look at her the way that she looked at him. His eyes were turned ever-skyward, ever to the horizon, always looking somewhere far off as if to search for a dream, something he couldn't touch.

She still remembered everything. Every time he touched her hand by accident, every smile, every word. The times he held out his own hand, to lift her from where she had fallen. When he came to save her. When she kissed him goodbye whilst he slept on, oblivious. She remembered it all, even if he didn't.

_Stirring dull roots with spring rain_

It was enough to make her give in, surrender to ruined feeling.

But occasionally he would turn, just for a moment, and smile at her in that small, almost-non-existent way that he had perfected, and it was enough to tear her open again.

She knew she should hate him for doing that. The worst part was, she knew she never could.


	341. Coma

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Ulquiorra x Orihime

**Coma**

There he lay, in the bed. Cold and white and smooth as stone: he was neither dead or alive, with a price on his head worth more than anything she could imagine. She didn't know why she had saved him. She didn't know why he was here, barely here, lying in her bed with her own force field around him so that no one would know that he was present.

So that no one would find out that she was healing him.

She wished that she knew what had compelled her to take him in when he appeared at her doorway, barely alive, injuries so great that he was propped against the wall, too weak now to stand. She didn't know how he had managed to live so long, or how long he had been trying to find her.

But most of all, she didn't understand why, now that he was here, she hadn't noticed that she had missed him.

He had been here four days.

He hadn't moved once.

She reached out to touch his cheek, and it was cool.

What happens when an arrancar dies?

Ulquiorra shouldn't have been beautiful like this, she thought. His white skin and dead expression shouldn't have filled her with warmth, not when he himself was so cold. But he was, and she couldn't even bring herself to hate him for that. She didn't know what was going to happen when he woke up (and really, deep inside, she knew that it wasn't a case of if- he was here for a reason now, and she knew they would both see it through) and saw her. Maybe he was here to kill her? The thought made her smile. She knew for a fact that he wasn't.

Maybe, when he woke up, she could look into his eyes in the way that she had never dared to in Hueco Mundo. Maybe she could touch his eyelids, and he would trace patterns on her cheeks in bewilderment.

Maybe he would learn what a heart was.

She thought she would like to teach him.

But for now she had to close the door on her comatose houseguest, and pray that no one noticed him. She had to pour all her energy into making him better: already, she thought, there was more warmth in his cheeks than there had been yesterday, or was that just wishful thinking?

But if it wasn't, and if he was waking up…

Well, she'd cross that hurdle when she came to it.

The door shut with a gentle click behind her, and she found that, for the first time in weeks, she was smiling.


	342. Check

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Squads Eight, Eleven and Thirteen

**Check**

"Nanao-chan! You need to check every cupboard!"

From across the room, Shunsui's Lieutenant rolled her eyes, disguising the expression by pushing up her glasses. Of course, she was checking absolutely nothing, but managed to retain the air of being very busy at the same time. Besides her, Yumichika examined his nails with a disgruntled expression.

"Honestly, I don't know what the fuss is about."

Captain Ukitake smiled at him, an expression of weary acceptance on his face.

"Well, it is the last of the jars that we have in stock, you know, and we're not due another delivery for three months."

"But it's not even low fat!"

Oh, and what were they talking about, you ask? The delicacies from the human world that were routinely shipped to the Soul Society were strictly rationed, but when certain members of the Seireitei became hooked on certain snack items things tended to get a little… unlawful, in the claiming of them.

This was why Captain Kenpachi Zaraki was currently elbow deep in tins of (unwanted) anchovies, having had Yachiru steal the keys to the storage from the Captain Commander (it would have been easier and with less repercussion to steal Unohana's, but... you know. She was scary). Captain Shunsui Kyouraku had disappeared behind several cases of questionable looking Eastern European canned drinks after Kenpachi had come across him trying to pick the lock, and Rukia Kuchiki had dust smeared over her face from where she was rooting through the long-untouched abandoned items on the bottom shelves. No one was quite sure how she had found out what was going on, but she was here none the less, with half her division with her. Yachiru had climbed on top of Kenpachi to reach the very highest shelves, whilst Ikkaku's ass was stuck rather unbecomingly out of a cupboard as he searched it. Around them were various seated members of the Eighth, Eleventh and Thirteenth divisions, all searching hopelessly… for the last recorded jar of mayonnaise.

"Captain, what do you want us to do?"

"Oh, why don't you just help Rukia-chan check the shelves?"

"See Sentaro? He was directing that to me more than you!"

"Get lost Kiyone, it was just because he wanted to get rid of you first!"

The two went off, bickering as they went, leaving their Captain with Yumichika and Nanao, neither of which were willing to get involved in the madness. The Lieutenant cleared her throat as she flipped a page on her clip board.

"Do you think it would help matters if I told them that they are looking at the food quota from last month, and that the last jar of mayonnaise was actually acquisitioned by the Fourth Division two weeks ago?"

Yumichika exchanged a look with Captain Ukitake, and then stared around at them. Kenpachi had opened a can of the anchovies and in disgust at what he had found had given them to Yachiru, who was pelting various shinigami with them. Shunsui, it appeared, had found the brandy put aside for the Captain-Commander, and Rukia had discovered the Chappy candy. Ikkaku was being offered various types of head wax by shinigami that didn't know any better and was growing gradually more and more red, and Kiyone and Sentaro were close to breaking bottles over each others heads.

They looked at each other again.

"Oh, I think we can leave them like this a little while longer."


	343. Little

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Ukitake

**Little**

Death comes to all, in the end. There is a reason they call it the great leveller.

Ukitake understands that you have to accept this.

No one can live forever, no matter how hard they try to prove otherwise. You can see it in people's faces, etched into the wrinkles around the Captain-Commander's worn and accepting eyes, he who suffers the harsh realities of aging and intends to live through it, even if he doesn't want to. It is carved into the frown lines and tight jaw of Kurotsuchi, he who has not yet accepted this fate and who tries to do anything to change the inevitable. You can see it in the denial of a thousand other people, who refuse to entertain the concept that one day, it will catch up with them.

But Ukitake is different than everyone else.

Ukitake understands death. It has walked hand-in-hand with him since he was a young boy, and he knows that it is not worth getting upset over.

He knows that after death, things will not end.

Oh, he doesn't know for sure what will happen. He has no psychic ability, no foreknowledge of what is to come: he will be as blind as everyone else when he steps forward into that most eternal and impenetrable of darkness.

But he isn't afraid of it.

He thinks about the possibilities, sometimes. Will he be reborn into the living world? He thinks that he might like that. Or would it be to another world entirely, one that they have no knowledge of- he is not one of the doubters who refuses to contemplate anything outside their understanding. He thinks that there is probably more. You cannot doubt the eschatological when you yourself live in an afterlife.

And what of the school of thought that thinks that life is a cycle between the living, the dead, and the hollow? Well, if that is the case, then he shall just have to find out for himself.

Either way, he has faith. He knows that there will be more.

After all, little is ever lost that you can't find again.


	344. PM

Oh, this reminds me- I'm very near the end of my list of requests! I could do with some more, please? Even if you have some outstanding, I would just love some more to get my teeth into. :)

Requested by SalutaBlue- thank you

Kensei x Lisa

**PM**

She was watching the clock.

Maybe it would have been more dramatic had it been a great, ticking monstrosity, some antique grandfather clock, but it was just a small digital one, with a bright blue screen that flickered to life whenever you hit the button, so the moment wasn't as poignant as it should have been.

Lisa reached out, and slapped it back into eerie, phosphorescent light again.

She was waiting for him to come back.

The day had already been, dragging its heels, and soon it would start again: that solid PM on the face of the clock would turn again to AM, and he would have been gone a whole day.

She might start to get scared then.

They argued a lot. He stormed off a lot, but that was okay, because she did as well. They were normally out for a few hours, half a day at most, but that last argument had been a bad one, she knew. Far worse than they had ever had before. And she knew she should have told him that she hadn't meant what she had said. When he paused in the doorway, hand on the frame and silhouetted by the hallway light, she knew that he was waiting for something, for a word or a sign or a touch or just a noise, for anything to tell him that she wanted him to stay, wanted to love him, regretted the cold words and colder looks over the last few hours.

She had been silent. She hadn't moved.

Now he was gone, and she was left sitting at the table for hours straight, waiting for him to come back, for everything to be okay again, even though she wasn't really sure that it was. She buried her head in her hands, and refused to start crying.

But then a noise made her start: she looked up, and there he was. Soaking wet from the rain, eyes staring at her fondly, if a little exasperated.

Another minute flickered past on the clock as she stood, black lines changing shape.

He opened his arms, and rolled his eyes at her.


	345. Date

Isshin x Masaki, and Urahara Kisuke

**Date**

"Am I interrupting?"

Isshin glared at his friend.

"Yes. Leave."

Urahara snapped his fan open to hide his smirk.

"Is this a first date?"

"Second date. Now, if you'll just lea-"

"Wow, she's really pretty!"

He grinned inanely at her, and took a seat at the table. Isshin glared at him from across the table.

"Don't sound so surprised."

Kisuke ignored him.

"What are you doing with him?"

She smiled, blushing.

"Ah-"

"Don't talk to her, just get out!"

"So, tell me. What's your name?"

"Masaki. I-"

"You don't have to answer him."

"Oh, no, really, I-"

"Oh, you can tell he likes you. He only gets this would up about girls he _really_ likes."

"Shut up!"

"Wow, he really, really likes yo-"

Kisuke was cut off as he was picked bodily up by his friend and thrown out of his house into the street, laughing as he did so.


	346. Apparition

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Hichigo Tensa x Ichigo

**Apparition**

He was nothing more than an apparition on the edge of his consciousness, a shred of black and white that sometimes caught the corner of Ichigo's eye before flickering away, even though the boy never thought too much of those little glimpses of the truth of things. He knew that Ichigo didn't know who he was. He accepted that that. His other form kept the boy quite at bay, and his own stubbornness meant that he could never see beyond the limitations of his own mind.

One day Ichigo would notice who he was, but he knew that day might not be for a while.

And in the meantime he would watch him, with all the half-lustful dedication and focused attention that a voyeur would lavish on a particular favourite. He would watch each movement of strength, each flex of muscle and reiatsu, each time his skin gleamed or his body beaded in sweat or blood.

He wasn't sure himself what he was some days. Just a subverted creation of sheer power and spiritual energy, nothing that he or anyone had the right words for. The only ones who really understood were the zanpakuto themselves, and they kept their mouths closed tightly on the nature of the… others.

Someone who was carefully tracking his everyone move, who cared very deeply about the progression of Ichigo's development. Someone who ran a pointed tongue over his teeth when Ichigo masturbated in the shower, who held the hope of the impossible in his hands and kept it safe from the cold winds of reality. Ichigo might look in the mirror sometimes, and wonder why he had a feeling of light headed déjà vu, but he didn't know that it was because someone else was looking at him through his own eyes.

Someone who was waiting.

Someone who was always watching.


	347. Skate

Requested by secundrea-axel- thank you

Rukia and Kaien

**Skate**

She skated on thin ice.

One touch too many on his sleeve. One hand steadying her grasp when she was shaking on purpose, to make him touch her. One more look across the room, across the training area, one more stare when no one else was watching.

It was dangerous.

Not because she thought that he might notice: he was oblivious entirely to her feelings for him, she thought, and would always remain so. That was just the way that he was. Kaien never had to look outside his life for other people- why should he? He was married to a beautiful woman who loved him as much as he adored her, so why should he take any notice of a silly, scrawny little girl who didn't have the right to her only noteworthy feature, the name she carried with equal amounts of confusion and regret.

She was bitter, and angry, and he thought of her as a child he needed to slap some sense into.

No, it wasn't fear that he would notice that made her worry- it was fear that other people would, and when you are a Kuchiki, your business is never your own. If it was not your elders looking over your shoulders it was the other shinigami, always waiting for her to slip, to prove to her and to themselves that her nobility did not make her any different to the rest of them.

So she tried to stay calm. She tried to stay composed. She tried her very hardest not to do anything that might embarrass herself or the family name.

And yet, as much as she told herself this, she knew that she was skating on thinner and thinner ice, and each time his innocent and platonic touch made her blush, she wondered when it would break underneath her.


	348. Train

Rukia x Ichigo

**Train**

"Ichigo, what the hell is this?"

"Shut up, Rukia. Come on, just hurry up."

He took her hand in his to pull her along, not noticing the small blush that came to her cheeks every time he did such a thing, and made sure she got through the crowds on the platform and onto a train. It was a little busy, and they couldn't find a seat. Instead he reached up to hold on to the strap, but she was too short to reach it.

The train lurched forward, and Rukia fell against him, looking worried. She whispered at him, aware that they were already getting odd looks for Ichigo's bright hair.

"What the hell?"

"Idiot. It's a train."

"What the hell is that? And how can I stop moving like this?"

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her up against him.

"You're so annoying."

This time, he did catch her blush.


	349. Wheel

Requested by SalutaBlue, who wanted something a little sad and a little hopeful- thank you

Unohana x Komamura

**Wheel**

He propped her up.

She didn't think many people knew that, because most people assumed that a person could be as dignified and as composed and as strong as she was all the time. Most people thought that it was just the way she was, that she never needed help, or comfort, or a moment to break down and wish that it wasn't happening.

Those people, she thought with a smile, were idiots.

But he was more than her prop, she thought. He was her continuity, the one thing she could rely upon day after day to be there when she needed him, to never outstay his welcome when she needed to be alone, to never take up more than what she could give to him.

And it that way he was perfect.

The problem with those sorts of perfection, though, is that they rarely work out in the long run.

She was fairly certain that she loved him, but she didn't think that they were in love.

She didn't want to hurt Sajin, and if she thought that he loved her passionately she would not have let it continue, to spare him. But what they had… it was nice, and nice is not being in love. In love is wild, a runaway wheel, destroying all in its path and creating havoc and commotion and mess behind it. Love filled you up with unspeakable emotions that made you want to scream out loud and made you blind to every fault, every flaw. Love was… love was…

Well, she didn't know what love was. After all these years, she still hadn't found it. She had never had that head-over-heels feeling, but that didn't really matter.

Because even now, after centuries of waiting, she hadn't given up. She knew it was just around the corner, even if it may still take years to pick the right corner.

She didn't mind, though, and it didn't make Sajin any less precious to her.

She still had hope.


	350. Faith

Ichigo and Zangetsu

**Faith**

I have confidence that he will pick me up again after he drops me. I know that his hand around the hilt of my body is enough to prove that he hasn't given up on me.

I trust that he will always have the power of will to hoist me one more time to face the opposition, and I believe that he knows that we will always be connected. I trust that his strength will always flow through my and that he will never desert me, and I believe that he knows that as well.

I have faith in him.

Some might call that faith irrational, some might question my motives for wanting to keep him as strong as possible. But I know that I do what I do only to prove to the world that we are strong together, that we are always together: that we will always be a part of each other.

Even now, when he thinks he has lost his powers for good, I am still here. He thinks that he will never find me again: that defeating Aizen was enough to sever ourselves from the world that we share. He doesn't know the truth of it yet, but Ichigo always was slow on the uptake.

I have confidence that he will never forget who I am. He will find a way to find me again.

I have faith in him.

We are one.


	351. Bruise

Requested by SalutaBlue- thank you

Gin x Kira

**Bruise**

He liked the bruises.

Of course this was never something that he could admit to liking, not without fear of reprisal and adverse effect. Instead. This was just something he kept to himself, a dirty little secret if you will, kept hidden away underneath the layers of his uniform out of sight and out of mind- although he knew full well that both he and the person that gave him the bruises often thought of them when they were sat in their offices, working away with only minimal distraction.

Okay, so there was a lot of distraction, but even if there hadn't been the sexual tension between them there were no doubts that the Captain of the Third Division would not have been the most diligent of workers anyway.

He ran a hand across the bruises as he stared at himself in the mirror. They showed up grotesquely dark against his skin- honestly, had he always been this pale? Even as a child, spending all his days out in the sun? Of course, he didn't have the complexion to tan particularly well, but nevertheless…

He sighed, and pulled the fabric of his uniform back into place, and swallowed down his brief moment of vulnerability.

The moon shone through the window. The room felt cold and cool.

Captain Ichimaru slipped his smile back into place as he left his Lieutenant's rooms, safe in the knowledge that this was his last night here, and these bruises would be enough to remind him of this last time for at least a little while, in the cold sands of Hueco Mundo.


	352. Through

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Komamura, Lupin and Sirius, Draco and Byakuya, Renji and Rukia, Crookshanks, Soifon and Yoruichi, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Matsumoto, Kenpachi and Neville, Voldemort and Mayuri

More of a parody than anything else.

Stonecreek, you must learn: anything is possible. I have no problem with writing anything as long as it has something to do with Bleach in some vague way. And that includes crossovers, of any form.

**Through**

Sirius didn't really remember much about what was through that mirror. It was all just a haze of things-that-were-a-blur-that-he-had-a-feeling-he-didn't-want-to-recall. The first solid thing he could remember was two great hands grabbing a hold of him by the shoulders, yanking him back through the greyness to… well, to somewhere else. When he came to, he realised that those hands were giant paws, and fainted dead away. However, the Blacks are made of stern stuff, and he came back to pretty quickly, and blinked up at the great fox-thing looming over him. The only thing that seemed to make sense was that Lupin was standing next to… it.

"Hullo, Sirius! Got you back eventually, didn't we? This is Sajin, I just know you two will get along fabulously."

This thing didn't look at all like the werewolves he had encountered before, but he supposed that was what it must be, although it appeared to be wearing custom made clothes.

"Remus? Where the hell are we?"

"Well, that is the question, isn't it?

_A little later, across the Seireitei… _

"Look through there, Sirius."

He did as he was told, and peeked in through the window. Sajin remained a silent watch guard behind them, although Sirius was still unsure just what his opinion of them breaking into this estate was. Through the glass though, he could see that bratty kid from Harry's year, the Malfoy who had always been causing trouble. Sirius blinked. What the hell was he doing here?

In a cool, composed room, Draco sat sipping tea, hardly daring to believe his luck.

Honestly, after all this time, this is where he ended up? In the manor of the greatest noble house of this crazy place? Finally, he was getting the damn respect that he deserved, without all the stigma of being from a house fallen in respect, wealth and stature amongst government. Finally, here was a man who understood the need for silence and dignity.

He closed his eyes, and smiled, and thanked whatever God was up there for him ending up in this place when the old man in charge (who had reminded Draco uncomfortably of Dumbledore) had decided to split the wizards between divisions to keep an eye on them.

However, all this joy came crashing to the ground as a large distinctly masculine scream wrecked the house as a girl ran through the room, hotly pursued by a dripping wet man with bright red hair. A vein above Draco's eye twitched. Red-heads wound him up… and this annoyance was made worse as a second ginger ran after them, also soaking wet, wielding a massive sword.

Byakuya Kuchiki continued to sip his tea, eyes distinctly _not_ looking at the obnoxious blonde in front of him who had been steadily winding him up with his prattle about pure bloods and not diluting nobility with trash. When, a moment later, the boy made his excuses and left, the Captain allowed himself a small smile. Really, it was just getting far too easy to manipulate people.

Just a couple of pails of water placed in strategic places, and he was left to his own company.

_A short time later_

Sirius and Remus walked through the streets as they filled each other in on the time they were apart. Sirius was most interested to learn about the battle of Hogwarts and its spectacular conclusion, when the Giant Squid reared up and ate the whole of England to put and end to the messy business once and for all. However, this story was interrupted by the sight of a very familiar cat, that Sirius leant down to stroke, remembering it fondly.

"Crookshanks! You're here too?"

"Stay the hell away from that cat!"

Sirius looked up to see a small, very angry looking woman glaring at him. Another cat sat perched behind her on a wall, looking quite unimpressed, if a cat could have such an emotion. The woman marched up to the ginger tom, and stared Crookshanks directly in the eye. Sirius took a step back, a little disturbed, and looked at Remus, who shrugged in equal confusion.

Hermione's cat stared back, with equal derision. From a nearby wall, Yoruichi sighed and cleaned her paws. Well, really. This was all rather childish. Just because she had happened to meet a new friend really didn't mean that Soifon had to go around marking her territory in this way.

"Ah, Remus? Shall we move on?"

_Ten minutes later_

"_That_ lad killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's snake? He was a hero?"

"Yep."

Sirius stared at him in confusion. The boy appeared to be cowering at something that was just out of sight behind the gateway of this division's courtyard. He didn't look anything like a hero worthy of standing in battle against the Dark Forces. How that this one occurred?

Neville blinked up at the vast form of Kenpachi Zaraki.

"Umm, hello?"

He refused to admit that he was intimidated. Okay, not intimidated. Terrified was probably a better word.

Sirius went a little further along the street, until he could see around the gate and could see the Captain that Neville had run into.

Ah, well, that explained a lot then.

Kenpachi Zaraki stared down at him, not saying a word. Neville was wondering how to into the floor and vanish forever when he was accosted by what appeared to be a pink torpedo that threw itself against his head and clung on for dear life like some sort of deranged monkey.

"Hey, squishy-face! Ken-chan, is he coming to play with us?"

Remus blinked, and muttered something that sounded like 'Good Luck' under his breath before dragging Sirius away, in case Yachiru decided she wanted another game of tag with him. Honestly, and he thought that fighting Dementors had been hard…

"Remus, where's Harry?"

Lupin stopped, and sighed.

"Well, that is some unfortunate business indeed, but I'm afraid he's fallen into some bad company whilst he's been here. Dangerous company."

Sirius looked deeply concerned at this, as well he should be by that sort of news, and let Remus lead him to a nearby window. Harry was dear to him, the only family he still had that he thought counted, and that he was in trouble worried him significantly. Sajin still loomed behind them, adding to his unease- what had his godson got himself into?

Inside a room, Harry was sat next to a very pissed off looking kid with silver hair. Next to him was Ron, and all of their eyes were fixed on the fourth at the table, a woman who- oh. Sirius' mouth fell open. Well hot damn, this just had to be heaven, because you don't get racks like that in the living world, that's for sure.

"I don't understand Remus, what's so dangerous though."

His friend pointed to Hermione, who was glaring with solid and furious anger at her friend and Ron, who Remus had assured him was slightly more than a friend now… Oh dear.

"She looks like she's going to kill them if they don't stop checking out her... necklace."

Remus cleared his throat. He had obviously had some experience with this, Sirius thought.

"Unfortunately, her… cleavage is somewhat hypnotic. When you start, it's very difficult to stop yourself. It's like it draws you in… I looked to see if there was magic involved, but it's just natural magnetism, I think."

"Who is the kid?"

"Her Captain. You remember when Harry went through that pissy phase and started speaking in capital letters all the time? Well, he's just like that."

Sirius pondered this a moment, before a new thought stopped him in his tracks.

"But tell me Remus, what the hell happened to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Remus placed a finger on his chin, grinning slightly to himself.

"Well, that is a funny story…"

_Elsewhere, across the Seireitei _

In the Twelfth Division, a place that normally Voldemort might have found quite entertaining, the former Dark Lord screamed as Mayuri pulled out another probe.

"How interesting. It appears that you have an incomplete soul. This must be further examined, don't you think?"

Honestly, he hadn't signed up for this when he had decided to take over the world.


	353. Wasteland

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Nnoitra

**Wasteland**

Don't get any fanciful ideas.

Life after death ain't as pretty as you'd like to think, or at least, it wasn't in the afterlife that Nnoitra was currently faced with.

But then, he was stuck between worlds. Maybe there was a nicer part, somewhere, although his version of heaven wouldn't have much to do with pretty clouds and sunshine. Either way, he had been thrown into this freaking wasteland, which wasn't so great looking. He wasn't quite sure what he had done to deserve this, but there you go, get over it and quit ya bitching, because life always had been one hell of a mother fucker.

Or death, whichever.

Nnoitra slung Santa Teresa over his shoulder, and looked around him.

The land was grey and desolate, patches of ash underneath his feet, rubble of demolished buildings around him. The sky… what was the sky here? Nothing like he knew, anyway- it was just one wide, blanketing grey, no differences in shade and no indication that it was cloud. The stunted caricatures of trees leant towards him, as if a great wind had blown them off centre. The air was still. It tasted of death.

Carrying across the blighted land came a scream of rage, and with a grin Nnoitra set off towards it.

Well, it looked like there was something here to take his interest, anyway.

After all, for good or for bad, life after death should never be boring.


	354. Blaze

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Byakuya x Renji

**Blaze**

He watched as the humans torched the building, just primitive villagers in a backwater place where they spoke in grunts of a dialect that he could barely understand, though it was below him to even try, he supposed. It wasn't like they could have heard him if he had replied, anyway. Or see him, for that matter.

He could still feel the ghost of Renji's kiss against his mouth. He had to force himself to not touch his fingers to them, to see if he could feel it there still.

There was a reason that they were here, but Byakuya still found himself disgusted that he had been given such a mission. The mud and filth of the place sickened him.

Renji listened to the sound of the village in chaos at the death of the man in the great house. The villagers were hoping that the corpse would not rise again, and were burning it to the ground just in case he might come back from the grave to find and torment them again. He had kept them oppressed for decades, Renji had told him with a grave frown, although quite how or why was not evident.

The air smelled of smoke, of burning. The man's body burnt in the flames with all the resistance of an effigy on a bonfire.

Byakuya found himself wishing that he could stop these people making such a disgrace of themselves, tell them that, where they were taking this soul, there was no return ticket.

But then he turned to look at his Lieutenant, and the disgust died in his mouth. Renji's eyes were closed to the flames that were licking through the rafters, but his hair caught the red-orange-yellow glow in the dim twilight. The wind loose strand of it and blew it across his face as ash fell snow-soft around them.

The villagers stood silent, staring at the house in awe as it blazed, but Byakuya had eyes only for the patterns of shadow it through across the hollow of Renji's cheekbones.


	355. Together

I don't know who requested this… whoever did, I thank you, and apologise for forgetting

Shunsui x Lisa

**Together**

In another life, he knew that they could have been together.

Maybe in a world where they had not been duty and honour bound to a way of life. Maybe in a world where his powers had not been so vastly important to the running of things, or where his family hadn't pushed him into the Academy, she hadn't pulled her way out of the Rukongai. Maybe in a world where they had not been leader and subordinate, a difficult bond to change at the best of times.

Maybe just in a world like theirs, only slightly different.

Maybe just in a world where he hadn't sent her off to investigate that one, fatefully dreadful night. But then again, who is to say that would have been the case? Because even if he had not sent her to that trap, even if she had not been exiled and… _altered_, it still might not have worked.

He put the creased and battered photograph face down in a drawer and turned his attention back to his bed, back to the sex-stained sheets and the faceless, nameless woman across the room that was already pulling on her dress again.

After all, could he ever have changed?


	356. Rust

Hello everyone... I don't know if you remember me, but I'm NorthernTrash-x, and I've been out of commission recently with a pretty bad case of one-of-my-kidneys-decided-to-stop-working. But that, after a two month hospital stint, is all over, and I'm glad to say I intend to come back to writing full force. So if there is anyone out there who still remembers me and would like to read more drabbles, here is an update for you all, and it comes with a request for MOAR REQUESTS PLZ!

Love to you all, faithful readers.

Requested by GreatTurtleMcRawr- thank you

Grimmjow x Ukitake

_I don't know if I've ever been good enough,  
__I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in  
_Matchbox 20

**Rust**

Neither of them were very good at this sort of thing.

In all fairness, neither of them had _ever_ been any good at this, and when you thought about it, it was pretty obvious why that was the case. Centuries of unbroken loneliness had not helped Jyuushiro at all: the world of blood and battle had stunted Grimmjow's own emotionally development. It was never going to be an easy thing to get of the ground.

But then, what is?

Jyuushiro despaired sometimes, but he had learnt a long time ago that sometimes the most difficult of things ended up with the most worth.

He hoped that was still the case, because the in between was hard, and he had thought he'd already had enough of that to last him for at least another century or three. When he was younger he had hoped life would be easy, that maybe things would go right for him seeing as how providence had granted him his illness, one marked card in a deck. Turns out, fate can be something of a bitch, and she likes to give you more of the hard stuff.

But maybe, just maybe, it was starting to work out a little.

Sometimes when their cautious hands moved to touch the other one of them would be afraid, and jump at the unusual intrusion, the softness of it all. Other times they wouldn't know what to do, and would flutter uncertainly from one place to the other without any real understanding of quite why they were so nervous about it all. And then, on those occasions, Grimmjow would get frustrated and bound off, angry and himself and the world and everything in it, and Jyuushiro would retreat into himself until he had nothing to say to anyone. Those were the bad days.

Sometimes swords ended up being drawn in heated battle that was nothing about violence, only other frustrations: Grimmjow always ended up a pile of twisted and electric nerves, sweat and the clash of swords winding him to fever point.

They were a little rusty, the two of them, and Jyuushiro was always painfully aware of it, of that easily spreadable and staining rust, scraping against his movements when he reached to press a kiss to Grimmjow's impatient mouth, the friction dragging him back and making him slow, unsure. But then Grimmjow would kiss him back, pressing tongue and teeth and pulling their bodies close, and the heat of it made his melt, made that cold, lonely little part of him disappear, as if Grimmjow was pulling the despair out of him and filling it up with something else, something different but just as potent.

Something that made him think that maybe Lady Life wasn't quite so cruel as to load his deck with only bad cards, after all.

And when he looked into Grimmjow's eyes, he could see that same hopefulness.


	357. Gloss

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Karin and Yuzu

**Gloss**

They got a little bit older each passing day, in those sweet, simple days whilst Ichigo recovered and started to smile again, whilst their father's forehead stopped being quite so creased in a frown and everyone started to laugh a little more. Days of summer weather and happiness, when things started to rebuild and everyone managed to move on a little. Never any drastic growth in body or in mind, just a little each day that built up, so that one day they looked in the mirror and barely recognized themselves.

Their hair grew longer, their bodies grew taller. It made them miss being young, sometimes, but they consoled themselves by watching Orihime grow more too, becoming a woman just as they were doing, albeit several years behind her. They wondered what Rukia would look like if she was there with them, too.

They were beautiful times, though in years to come when recalling it all they would remember different things: Yuzu remembers sleeping better, Karin remembers crying less in the dead of night when no one was around to hear her. Yuzu remembers the year that Isshin planted a rose bush in the garden for, he told her, friends who had fallen out of his life, and that though he had looked a little sad there was no regret in his eyes. Karin remembers the taste of the blackberry wine Urahara brought over in celebration that day Ichigo had finally come home for good, the bittersweet stinging her tongue whilst she was singing inside at happiness that he was safe, with them again.

Golden days, but those days bled into weeks, into months, and as they grew they became a little more like women, gaining a little bit of the gloss of adulthood, thought they still felt too young to pull it off.

Halcyon days, that was what Orihime called them, even though she always looked a little sad as she smiled when she said it, as if she was remembering some far gone memory.

They didn't understand that sadness, but maybe that was part of their innocence still.


	358. Fame

Requested by Chessie-facee- thank you

Aizen x Hallibel

_The dirtier the sound, the best I breathe  
__I tried to do it all for you- it didn't do anything for me  
_Manchester Orchestra

**Fame**

Infamy is a dangerous thing.

Sosuke Aizen knows this better than most: after all, his ultimate deception rested on thousands of people believing inherently and without question the persona he had created for himself.

Knowledge can be dangerous, too.

Tia Harribel learnt this the hard way in Las Noches. Maybe her stoic expression and the unfortunate positioning of her mask disguised much of her emotion, but there was feeling behind it, and some of it was horror, but more of it was passion. Perhaps there was more of her once-humanity left in the twisted and transformed soul than in the others: perhaps it was just chance, but she felt herself married to Las Noches and the Lord of the place, married to the principles and the practise of battle.

Bride with a veil of blood, carnage fell in her path.

And yet, in the path of Him, she fell to _her_ knees. Because in this place he was King, and in this place he was Master, and the infamy of his life was her holy scripture. She knew she would throw her life down for him, because of that power he held. In his hand, as if she was nothing more than an inconsequential butterfly, he held her heart. He made it beat, he made it bleed, made it burn. He could destroy it, if the whim suited him.

And oh, how she loathed him for it, for his strength, for all that she had been told about him.

But how she burned for him at the same time.

If she could, she would kill him. But every time he passed, she found her eyes trained to the floor, blush heating her skin, hands reaching for a body she knows she will never be able to possess.

He smiles, cold, calculating, congratulating himself once more on harnessing the power of fame.

Because infamy, as he has learnt, is a dangerous thing.


	359. Argue

Requested by Asiram- thank you

All credit goes to the author of 'The Gruffalo', the book Ukitake is reading.

Ukitake and Sogyo no Kotowari

**Argue**

"A mouse took a stroll in the deep, dark wood-"

"That was pretty stupid of the mouse, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, bet it's gonna get eaten. Is it gonna get eaten?"

Ukitake rolled his eyes at the two of them and stifled a deep sigh. This was the third time he had tried to start this particular book, and he really couldn't be bothered any more. Yes, the mouse probably should have been eaten according to any sensible laws of nature, but no, it probably would end up alright, if not better off. Just look at that Harry Potter kid.

But, after all, these are the laws of childhood heroes.

"Well, you'll just have to wait and see. Now, a mouse took a stroll in the deep, dark wood, a fox saw the mouse and the mouse looked-"

"Told you he'd get eaten!"

"Ha, mouse! Shouldn't have gone for a walk then, should you!"

Ukitake stared at them both with a silent, irritated eye. When he signed up to be a shinigami, this was not what he had anticipated. Honestly, if he had known that communicating with your zanpakuto spirit was going to be this hard, he would have thought twice about it.

Probably.


	360. Crisp

Requested by le car- thank you

Kenpachi x Unohana

**Crisp**

There was frost on the windowpane, a crisp chill in the air. She was pinned underneath the heavy weight of his arm, its huge muscle and thick tendons a sleeping entrapment. Her back was pressed fully to the bed, breathing slightly restricted by the size of it, by his elbow pressed against her ribs.

His breath was deep and heavy, and she ached from tiredness and exertion from the night before. He sighed a little as he slept, and it moved the hair around her ear, making her shiver at the faint touch.

Winter was coming, winter and cold weather.

This time last year he had drawn her to his bed on a reel of animal strength and impossible attraction, irrefutable and undeniable, leading her to him like a small, petted animal to the slaughter. The first time he had pushed into her she thought she might die from the feeling of it, the size of him, the extraordinary pleasure welling up inside her.

And yet, here she still was, a year later. Still alive, still the same.

And the frost was creeping in again, another season passed by. The patterns of the swallows had not changed, they had left and come back and were leaving again, already the leaves were changing and she spent her days still healing people and coming here at night to be torn apart again and again, over and over as the rasp of his stubble kissed her body wherever he took an interest, hurting a little but feeling so good as he moved in and out of her, the wet sound of their bodies a natural rhythm.

She had found, over the last year, that as destructive as he felt when he was with her, he hand the hands of a healer in his own, special way.

She was just glad only she got to feel them.


	361. Navigate

Requested by le car- thank you

Shunsui, Ukitake and Unohana

**Navigate**

Navigating your way through the back alleys of the Rukongai districts wasn't an easy job at the best of times, much less when you were a student in a part that you'd never been to before. Especially when you were a slightly drunk pair of students who were far too merry from finishing their exams and it was four o'clock in the morning and you were no longer able to see straight.

"Jyuu-chan, you know you're my besht friend, right?"

Jyuushiro nodded absentmindedly, staring with fascination at a brick wall as if it held the answers to life itself.

"Shun, I think we need to climb this wall."

The wall was sheer, and ten foot tall with barbed wire lining the top: these were not facts to deter them at all in this state. Neither was the fact that climbing the wall was a useless and arbitary thing to do: in their drunkeness, it became the most important thing they could possibly do. However, before they managed to begin, a sweet voice called out to them.

"I really wouldn't advise that, you two."

They turned at the sound, wobbling a little at the sudden movement. Before them stood a young woman, older than them by an indeterminate age: by how much or how little they really could not tell, although maybe if they had been more sober it would have been easier to do so. Her hair was dark and swept around her shoulders, her eyes calm and compelling.

Shunsui ran a hand through his hair, not noticing that it was still sticky from the drink that had been dumped over him in the last bar. Hot woman, plus Shunsui. It was only a matter of time before the sleeves rolled up and the sleazy smile made its way onto his face. However, this woman seemed neither bemused, attracted or repulsed by the drunken sleaze: in fact, she did not seem to even notice.

Actually, through the drunken stupor of Jyuushiro's mind, she actually seemed a little too familiar, as if he'd seen her somewhere before, although for the life of him he couldn't remember-

And then, oh shit.

The woman trailing the old man when he did those lectures on the Fourth Division.

The pretty one, who was the youngest Captain ever to be chosen in the history of the Gotei so far.

The one who could report them and get them kicked out for inappropriate behaviour.

Oh shit, indeed.

Without thinking, Ukitake grabbed his friends sleeve and dragged him off at what seemed like high speed, but what was more like a stumbling weave, bouncing off rubbish bins and dirty walls as they went.

Retsu stared after them, a smile on her young face as she made a mental note to have some strong painkillers and re-hydrating pills sent to their rooms the next morning.

So these were the two the Yamamoto had already chosen for Captaincy?

How… interesting that one might turn out to be.


	362. Soar

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Kensei x Mashiro

**Soar**

"Do you think I could be a bird?"

Kensei didn't answer, but then again, half the time he didn't respond to what she nattered on about when they were sat in their joined offices, apparently working.

"I would make a great bird."

She looked at him, from the side. His face in perfect profile, sun shining on it from behind so that his hair glowed a milky white, his skin a golden brown. When he was like this, working hard with a frown on his face but in perfect silence, everything felt quite wonderful. So calming, to warm.

"I'd fly across the sea, see all sorts of places, you know?"

She stretched out, ankles crossed and resting on the stack of recruitment forms she was meant to be working her way through. The sun hit her side on, warming her through the uniform she had half-discarded.

"I'd like to be a blue jay, I think, or a magpie."

The deep frown on his forehead increased Kensei grew visibly more and more frustrated by her wittering.

"I could imagine myself soaring through blue skies. Don't you ever wonder what a cloud looks like from the top?"

"No. No, Mashiro, I don't give a damn. Does anyone really give a flying crap about that sort of thing?"

"Kensei, don't you care?"

"No, I don't give a fucking damn about being a bird, or anything. Now get your god damn feet off the desk and go through those forms. They're due in tomorrow, and I ain't doing them. S'your job."

"If I was a bird, Kensei, would you be a bird too?"

Kensei didn't answer that time, just stared down at his work, but Mashiro already knew the answer. The bite marks on her neck from the night before were proof enough of that.

"We could both fly away, you know."


	363. Flock

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Yachiru

**Flock**

Yachiru, Kenpachi had always been glad to notice, was the sort of little girl that had always had a whole flock of followers around her, other kids who idolised her and animals that she had picked up and adopted at whim. He always, in his unspoken mind, thought it was pretty cute the way small things always gravitated around her. That many of these followers didn't have a choice in the matter was something else entirely that he didn't bother taking into consideration- after all, Yachiru was just that sort of character.

However, on occasion she went one step too far even for the limits of the Eleventh Division. Hacking through to Hueco Mundo to find a new sort of pet was one such thing.

But really, was he ever going to stop her?

Surely not, when it caused such mayhem and annoyance from most of the other Captains. I mean really, half the reason he kept the kid around was for the sight of the old man's face turning more and more red.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

Yachiru looked innocently up at the Captain-Commander, eyes wide and hair slightly mussed up. If you didn't know her, you'd have said she was just any little kid who was having fun.

"He's called Fuzzy-Head."

The small, sheep-like hollow took an unceremonious dump on the floor next to Byakuya's shoes, and continued eating the end of Tousen's Captain's haori, although the blind Captain didn't notice. It might have been quite cute, if not for the huge, horned hollow mask that it wore.

Kenpachi grinned.

It was going to be a good day.


	364. Jewel

Requested by le car- thank you

Byakuya x Hisana

**Jewel**

He'd heard all of the lines before- ruby in the coalmine, sparkle in the dirt, diamond in the rough. A spark of brightness shining out from the dark and unspoken world of her past, from the low streets with their filth and their sadness. All that was left of her from those years, those years when she was not living but _surviving._

She was broken a little, cut down by years of staring at the ground. But he didn't see it like that: he knew that was what the nicer members of his family said, the ones that accepted her because there was nothing else to do about the situation.

The ones who didn't like her: well, there were far more of them, and what they said wasn't repeatable.

She was a jewel though, as far as he was concerned. A glimmer in his life, the one thing he focused on to get him through the day. The way a miser coverts his gold, he sat up at night watching the moonlight turn her pale skin silver and wanting almost to weep at the beauty of it, at his luck at finding such a precious thing.

And he could see that shine in her eyes when she looked at him with love, could see it glimmering through the grey-blue, making them bright and healthy looking. She always kissed him when she smiled that that, when she was filled up with that much happiness that it looked like she might burst with it.

It was those moments he wished he could hold on to: those sweet moments he hoped his life would always be full of.

A kiss, on the corner of his mouth.

"For forever, Byakuya?"

"For forever."


	365. Royal

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Urahara x Yoruichi

**Royal**

She was always aware that she was royalty.

It didn't matter that she had left all of that behind her: it didn't matter that she no longer was even accepted in her family, that she had been disowned and her name stripped from the family records. She knew that if her cousins, her uncles, even her younger siblings ever caught sight of her, they would either ignore her, or try to kill her.

That didn't matter.

She could still feel the weight of those ceremonial robes around her body, the press of the ornamental headdress that was nothing more than a glorified crown, an accessory only to show her superiority over everyone else.

And she had got a little freedom from it when she had become Captain: then people had started to respect her for something other than her family name. But even then, it was still there. In the eyes of her subordinates, even in the careful words from the other Captains, some a little afraid to offend the daughter of the great Shihoin family.

But he had always been different.

From the beginning, he had never treated her like that, like someone above him. It didn't matter to him that she _was_: in fact, she wasn't half sure if he ever even noticed. Constantly evasive about his past, he could have been a lord or a street rat, though somehow she didn't believe he was either- whatever he was, or had been, he didn't seem to notice at all who she was. The name Shihoin was met with no blink or look of respect, the title Captain not acknowledged even with a bow of the head.

He treated her as if she was just another shinigami, as if he knew from the beginning that they were more than equals: they were partners. In thought, in crime and eventually in bed.

So back then and still now, there was only one thing that made her feel better when she remembered the home that she had abandoned, the only thing that stopped the guilt at leaving, the remorse for those she had lost, and the bitterness for having part of her life taken from her. Only one person who ever got to see behind her smile, got to see that underneath it the cocky assuredness and the laid back attitude was just another woman who missed her family.

Just a woman who still didn't feel too grown up, even if her childhood had been taken by ceremony and duty, who still missed home just as much as she hated the thought of returning.

And it was just Kisuke, just his smile and his touch, that made it better again.


	366. Clean

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Renji x Byakuya

**Clean**

"Captain? What are you doing?"

Renji was confused, but he managed to stop himself from swearing, because he knew Byakuya found a coarse mouth distasteful, and there was something about the tentative bond that had sprung up between them that did not need testing, not yet.

Really, Renji knew he shouldn't have raised his voice at all, but there was something just so perplexing about Byakuya Kuchiki washing his feet for him that something simply had to be said.

If it hadn't, Renji had a funny feeling that his universe might have exploded in confusion, or something.

"I am cleaning your feet of mud, Renji."

"I… yes, ah, well I can see that, but why?"

If it had been anyone else doing this, Renji would have kicked them away by now- it felt far too weird to have someone wiping your toes- but then, he didn't know anyone else who would do this, so he supposed that didn't really matter.

Byakuya didn't answer immediately, seeming focused now on Renji's instep.

"A man washes a horse that he needs because the horse functions better satisfied. This is the same reason he feeds him, lays him hay, keeps him warm. The man needs the horse, and for this, he must get his hands a little dirty in order to maintain the creature. That is what I believe equality to be, Renji. One doing something for another, to show a mutual need."

Renji, unfortunately, had missed the point.

"Um, Captain, are you saying I'm like a horse?

"No, Renji. What I'm trying to say is…"

He trailed off, unsure and unusually lost for words, if only for the briefest moment.

"Sometimes when the Lord washes the humble, it can show the humble that he is of no less importance to the Lord. In fact, like the man needs the horse, the Lord needs the humble. Like I need you."

Renji reached down, and daring the affection, tucked a strand of hair behind Byakuya's ear.


	367. Naked

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Byakuya x Hisana

**Naked **

Hisana was something more than anything he had ever seen, and in allowing her to become closer to him realised it was not a case of slow movement: she threw aside his mask of emotions before he even realised her fingers were closed around it, smashing it to a thousand pieces on the floor.

She stripped him of everything that he thought he knew and believed. She took the fabrics of his insecurities and pulled on the loose ends until the entire woven tapestry of his life fell apart around them. She pulled down the walls that had surrounded him for as long as he could remember, stepped over the threshold of his intimacy, and built them back up around the two of them, stronger than ever before.

Hisana always had the ability to make him feel naked, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

The vulnerability she made him feel was matched with an almost ferocious regard for his safety: she was a wild little thing at times when it came to protecting him, a fierceness that was matched by his own for her. When they stood together, he felt like nothing could break them apart. Not his family, not her repetitive illnesses, not even death itself.

Those first few months were ones of realisation and unequalled beauty. Ones of hopeless intimacy and impossible warmth. A matchless wonder as they discovered more about each other, as they fell utterly and irrevocably for each other, regardless of what societies rules had dictated.

It was love.

It was indestructible.


	368. Play

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Hallibel x Starrk

**Play**

He played at reality.

Very little of their life ever seemed real: those ghostly white walls that stretched up into the impenetrable darkness of the ceiling, looking almost like they went on forever. Starrk walked along those limitless corridors and stared around him, pretending the shadow on the wall was a companion who also saw the darkness.

Lilynette, when she separated from him, didn't get much of that propensity to see the blacker side of the world. She looked at it through a veil of rage, the rage he had been bottling up for so many decades that it seemed alien from him. Which, he supposed, it was now.

She saw the world through a sheen of red.

He had been left with the sadness, and the dreams.

It could have been worse, he thought, though he wasn't quite sure how.

Hallibel didn't believe in anything much, though she would have liked to say that she looked towards something beyond the horizon that signified hope and balance: at least, she would say that if there were anyone at all that she talked to. As it was she had only her own mind to communicate with, and as she already knew what she though, she never bothered thinking about it anymore.

She knew that there was more to life. The problem was, she had forgotten how to believe in it.

They played at reality, the two of them.

Pretending their lives were something other than what they were; pretending there was something more than the emptiness of their souls and their minds. Something more than the bleak grey of existence.

Quiet touches in improbable interludes; silence in the pressing of bodies. No passion in their embraces, no deep nail scratches and biting teeth. Just flesh on flesh, cool and dry skin. The occasional graze of stubble against bone, the brief warmth of their beating hearts, still so distinctly separate.

They played at their love, as well.


	369. Core

Requested by le car- thank you

Shinji x Hiyori

**Core**

There was irritation and confusion and denial; there were complications and hatred and frantic panic. Sometimes there were baited tempers, there was always frustration, and the hated seemed to be permanent. Clashes of ego, crass insults, and then there was unkindness and brutality and condemnation. There was abhorrence and aggravation, malice and spite. Loathing, displeasure, repugnance, but at the centre was something else.

Something more than all the rest.

Something real.

Because inside it all, despite everything, he saved her life. Day after day, dream after dream, Shinji took her breath away with his insolence and his beauty.

Because he was her constant, he was the one thing in her life that had always been there. There was not a single memory she possessed that didn't involve him there, in the background in the foreground. Sometimes his voice, sometimes the flick of his hair. She had cried the day that he had cut it off, hidden away in her room with a handful of the fine, blonde hairs clutched in her fist. She had always loved his hair. She still kept that lock in a drawer, wrapped in a rag.

She never looked at it. That would hurt too much; it _was_ too much.

Because he was beautiful, and although it irritated her to hell, sometimes she found that when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye it was all she could think about, the elegant grace of his cheekbones, the glow of his skin, the brightness of his eyes.

He was so much more beautiful than she would ever manage to be.

And yet, she didn't care.

He could keep his airs and graces, his lean muscular charm and his leering grin. She'd remain uncouth and unsmiling, the absolute opposite of that.

After all, it was just one other way that he completed her.


	370. Bitch

Requested by 3R15UK0UM31- thank you

Living World Gang

**Bitch**

Decisions are one hell of a bitch.

Figuring out what to do when you were one of a group of friends like this always made it far, far worse to do. Chad would never put forward an opinion or an answer to the problem; when Ichigo did it was always contradicted instantly by Uryuu, who for some reason just never wanted to agree with him. Orihime would always agree with Ichigo though, but be shouted down by Tatsuki, who would tell her to give her own opinion, and not worry so much about what other people wanted.

Then Keigo would start flapping around about how much everyone was yelling, and Mizuiro would wave off any questions about what he wanted with his face glued to his phone.

Trying to make a unanimous decision in the face of this adversity? Pretty much impossible.

"So Chad, what do you want to watch?"

A solid and ever so dependable shrug was all that they got in reply. Keigo shoved his hand in the air, as if they were still in the classroom and waiting for a teacher to ask him the answer.

"I wanna watch _Samurai Pizza Cats: The Movie_!"

Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"No. _Guns and Senior Marmalade_ has been out ages, I wanna catch it before it goes."

Predictably, Uryuu rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, Kurosaki. That stuff is trash. I think we should listen to Keigo."

"Ishida, you hate animated films, you think they are worse than bent sowing needles. Don't agree with him just because you don't wanna agree with me!"

Orihime waved her hands around.

"It doesn't matter! Besides, the Senior Marmalade film looks really good!"

"Orihime, you know you want to see _Vampire Dawn; This Time He Glitters! In 3D_. Don't just agree with everyone because you want to be accommodating. You know you don't have to do that."

"I know Tatsuki, but still…"

Things do not get resolved. Unfortunately, that was why they ended up seeing _Busty Seaside Resort 5_.

Not that Keigo was complaining about that one.


	371. Scratch

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Kensei x Mashiro

**Scratch**

Don't get her wrong, he drove her crazy half the time.

Some days she just wanted to beat the hell out of him rather than have to see him for just another second. But she supposed that didn't really matter: as much as she didn't want to admit it, as much as she hated the fact that it was true, he was an itch, and she just had to scratch it.

It was irritating as fuck, like an insect bite that didn't heal. It meant that he was always on her mind, something unforgettable, under her skin.

He was hers.

She didn't care if he didn't know it yet.

Because she had figured it out, not too long ago, that this was what love was. It was a heavy weight on your shoulders, an all consuming heat that felt as if it would make your heart burst from your chest, shatter your ribs. And that was how he made her feel, over and over again every passing day, winding her up and making her hate him all whilst he made her love him.

But she had to admit, she thought as she pushed him down on the bed, the itch sure was fun to scratch.


	372. Adult

Requested by codedorange- thank you

Hitsugaya x Hallibel

**Adult**

There was something about her skin that made touching her very different from touching anyone else's.

It was like that in so many ways, some that he could understand and in some ways that he could not even fathom at the same time. Other people felt different to him, in smoothness or texture and just in the way that they made him feel. Matsumoto's made him irritated, with its moisturiser softness and its faint artificial smell of an intentionally alluring scent, or else that of male aftershave from the night before. Momo's was always coupled with the feeling of guilt, as if he were touching something far too innocent for it ever to be right.

But her skin was hot, not warm. The palms of her hands were callused, not smooth, and she smelt of exertion, of the light beading of sweat between her shoulder-blades at the end of a day, a day in which she never stopped battling, training, working towards a distant sun of a dream that she never talked about and he never asked about.

The bite of her blade whilst they fought was as soothing to him as the sweet sounds she made under her breath when they drew close together; he didn't even know if she knew she was making them, but if they were meant to distract they did a damn good job.

Her eyes flashed at him, as if she knew what he were thinking.

Her skin made him feel adult, and that was something more than he could ever explain.


	373. Throb

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Kenpachi x Unohana

**Throb**

She woke up with a throbbing pain in her head and the taste of dried blood in her mouth and had a startling feeling of displacement.

This wasn't where she was meant to be.

She had been injured, she remembered that. But shouldn't she have been sent to her own division? She forced her eyes open, and was struck momentarily by the childish fear that she was being carried off by a monster. But then she focused, and realised that it was Kenpachi Zaraki.

Which didn't make her feel a whole lot better.

She dozed off again before she noticed the stickiness of blood on her forehead.

When she woke she was being poked by Yachiru, who was swatted out of the way. Then she felt the warm pressure of a hand against her cheek, and she became suddenly aware of the painful throb in her head; then, after a moment, the other Captain picked her up again, and soon she was gone again.

The next time she woke up she was back in the Fourth division, between clean white sheets and with the comforting smell of disinfectant in the air.

She sat up, looking around her. There was no sign of Captain Zaraki, and no sign of any medics around her. She tried to shake the pain from her head and the ringing from her ears and became more and more aware of the noises around her. There were screams from the corridors, sobs and the crack of dislocated bones being pulled into place. She blinked. The battle. What had happened?

A medic appeared, as if by magic. She looked young, and exhausted, and a little scared.

"It's so good to see you up, Captain. We've all been so worried. You were knocked out by flying rubble from an explosion behind you."

"Why did Zaraki carry me back? What happened to the hospital transport services?"

"We were overwhelmed by numbers. We're too dependant on your zanpakuto, you see; you were not there to carry a load back, and no one knew where you were. We're getting on top of everything now, but it got pretty crazy here for a while. But I don't know who brought you back, though. We thought you'd come back by yourself; you just appeared in the waiting room a few hours ago."

Unohana blinked, bemused. Had she dreamt it? She knew that it was a common side effect of concussion, but it had felt so real...

Three days later, and she still had not worked it out. Logically she knew that in probably hadn't happened, but the memory of the warmth of his hand proved impossible to forget or to deny. She was unused to such a feeling of emotional confusion and indecision. She still had not made up her mind when she happened to pass him in the street.

He glanced down at her, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

She found that she could not look away from him.

"Thank you."

He nodded at her, and kept on walking. Yachiru waved at her as he walked away.

She touched her cheek, and realised that she was blushing, the first time since she had been in the Academy.

And that... that was something new.


	374. Arrow

Requested by Loveless-Gin- thank you

Chad x Ishida

**Arrow**

Chad liked myths, especially some of the Ancient Greek and the Roman ones. He liked the stories of the Gods and how simple it all seemed to be to them, how the ones with all the power acted in the same way as the mortals, with idiocy and self-centeredness. It made sense to Chad. If he was going to believe in a god, he'd rather it would be one as fallible as he was.

He wondered about Cupid, sometimes.

That little guy didn't make too much of an appearance in day to day life these days, except on the occasional Valentine's or White Day cards, although only on the most sentimental and sickening of them.

Chad knew that they had gotten it all wrong though.

Cupid- or Eros, as he had once been known- was not an innocent little baby. No cherubic dimples and cloud-soft wings; no corn-silk hair and rosy complexion. No bow of pink spun-sugar, and no arrows with hearts on the end.

He knew what Cupid was really like.

Darker than that, colder. With a sharp tongue and no time for mistakes, but with a firm hand that steadied and warmed too. He knew that Cupid had a permanent frown and was impatient, had an organised life and had little time for the frivolous aspects of day to day existence. There was a lot of anger burning under Cupid's skin, he knew that, and a lot of hatred as well: Chad always wondered how much of that hatred was just because somewhere along the way Cupid had ended up being something other than what he had wanted to be.

They had got it right about the arrows making people fall in love though.

Only the real bow, he had realised a long time ago, glowed blue and white, and held the power of death as well and as comfortably as it held the power of love over Yasutora Sado.

Chad knew all this, because one of those irrevocable arrows had already shot him right through the heart.

And the bow of Uryuu Ishida hummed contentedly as the Quincy lay, curled up in the dark and strong arms of the man helplessly in love with him.


	375. Alienation

Requested by Ngoc Chau- thank you. I enjoy this pairing very much, they appeal. I like to write very sick things; I think the favourite thing I've ever written is the one-shot for these two. Lol, plug.

Mayuri x Nemu

**Alienation**

When God created the entire world, he needed seven days.

Mayuri needed the same to create his Lieutenant.

He decided that, though God worked on a larger scale, his creation was of a far superior nature.

On the first day he set the process in motion, watched the cells bundle together with a mild interest, the same way he might watch an insect crawl towards a spot of sap on a tree, not knowing that they will be trapped, stuck, dead. After a while he lost interest though, left the test tube alone, and a few days later when he came back to it he found that organs had grown, skin had formed and it had a face.

He had made it so that she would be beautiful, because he preferred enjoy things that were aesthetically pleasing.

Plus, that way, the scars would be all the more obvious.

On the fifth day he had some of his minions change her tube, because she was growing very big now and the glass was threatening to crack. Bruises had started to form on her lily-white, developing limbs where they had been pressed against the sides of the tube. Now she stretched and moved in the gelatinous liquid, her eyes still closed and fluttering underneath the lids. Cut off entirely from the world, alienated from life, she was the embodiment of innocence, and he could not wait to change that.

Stark naked, he traced her outline against the glass, and smiled through the makeup.

He had read a book from the human world, a book called _Lolita_ and laughed at the narrator's attempts to justify his actions with accusations of the young girls flirtations, her promiscuity: he needed no such justifications to make himself feel better. He had created her to make his life better, and he would make such that she was perfectly willing to comply. And if making himself feel better meant taking out his rage on her body, then that would be that.

And as he had learnt over the years, rage could be played out in oh so many ways.

She simply had to accept.

And he would make it so that she always did.


	376. Metal

Requested by Pheonix09- thank you!

Ichigo x Uryuu

**Metal**

The days of the Quincy had been golden. Days of triumph and victory, days of blazing glory. Days of lines of warriors standing shoulder to shoulder, bows drawn, faces tight in expectation and battle on the horizon, a battle that they would always come out of triumphant. Those were the days when people cowered at the name of their race.

He supposed that was why they had attracted the attention of the Shinigami to begin with.

But now things were different.

If the age of the Quincy were golden, the age of the last of the race were steel.

Hard determination, hard fate. A solid, impenetrable wall against the rest of the world, a metal that stood up against scrutiny. It had to, for him to be able to get through each day, knowing that the Grandfather he had loved died for his race, and the father he barely acknowledged had given up faith in his a long time ago.

He needed the wall to survive.

And yet, there had always been one boy who managed to break down those defences. There was one man who knew how to take it down, brick by brick, who carved himself a niche in the seamless metal of Uryuu's life.

He'd like to say that he hated it, but he really didn't.

Because if the Quincy's days were golden and Uryuu's life was steel, then Ichigo was water, moving effortlessly through the cracks and drowning him. He was fire, melting him down in the forge of his guileless touch and his small, honest smile. He was air, deep in Uryuu's lungs, forcing him to keep breathing even when the world got on top of him and all he wished for was to go back in time and die with honour on the battlefield with the rest of his race.

But when Ichigo was holding him, he didn't want to.

Because, above all else, Ichigo was everything.


	377. News

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Starrk and Lillynette

**News**

"Hey, Starrk!"

Ah, that voice. That irritating, whiny voice that punctuated his dreams when all he wanted to do was to sleep. He should have known from the beginning that a pest like Lillynette was going to cause him nothing but trouble and interrupted naps.

"Starrk!"

For the love of god, all he wanted to do was to sleep! Just to rest his head on his cool sand and slip away into warm, gentle sleep where nothing every bothered him except for the occasional drea-

"STARRK!"

He sat bolt upright as his name was screamed into his ear, swatting at the skinny kid who was now rolling with laughter at his indignant and surprised expression.

"The hell is wrong with you, brat?"

She sat upright again, skinny legs folded underneath her, face suddenly serious.

"I've got news, Starrk. It's really important, I thought you should know right away."

He looked at her with suspicion, but her expression really did seem sincere.

"Go on then, what news is it?"

"Well..." she took a deep breath, as if about to unburden herself of a great secret, "You suck!"

Laughing, she ran quickly away in case he tried to swat her again. With a groan he rested his head in his hands, headache already growing in his temples.

Bloody kids.


	378. Come

Requested by dirnle- thank you

Byakuya x Renji

**Come **

People come and they go. To and fro, like a pendulum swings, is how he likes to think of it. One moment a person is there, the next they have gone, and a moment later someone else has appeared in the periphery of his vision. They might be an important person or someone he forgets almost instantly, but there is one thing that he knows for sure.

They always go, in the end.

He knows this, knows it for sure- and after all, he should, he's learnt it the hard way. He has seen women trying to be his mother when he was just a street kid waste away, he's seen the kids in his gang vanish into the dark, grimy Rukongai streets, where anything is possible. A kindly street vendor who slipped him unsold scraps at the end of the day, one evening dragged away by a thug he had got on the wrong side of. Even Rukia had gone from him, into the world of the elite and the cold, where he could not join her.

And now there was Byakuya.

His Captain, who had a glare like ice but whose hands were so warm when they touched the back of Renji's neck when he was bent over paperwork, Byakuya who could cut him down with a few choice words whilst pulling back the covers and inviting him to bed. The son of the most noble Kuchiki family, who was far too good for him and who, Renji knew, would one day follow the undeniable pendulum-swing of fate and leave, just like all the rest.

"You will, you know. One day, you'll go."

A raised, elegant eyebrow.

"Do not be so ridiculous, Renji."

And in the secret part of him that still tried to deny the inevitability of that pendulum, Renji hoped.


	379. Hard

Requested by Ngoc Chau- thank you

Hiyori, Shinji, Kisuke, Mayuri x Nemu

**Hard**

Another day in the Gotei 13, another screaming argument on the steps of one of the most noble and ancient institutions in all of the worlds, over who had been late and who had been early, and who had been meant to bring the coffee.

Hiyori was not impressed.

Shinji clearly felt the same as he glared down his nose at the diminutive blonde in front of him, trying to keep his cool. He managed to do quite well, until she scowled deeply, stuck out her bottom lip and stamped her foot. Hard.

On Shinji's.

Urahara, approaching the two of them from a distance, smiled. In the brief days that he had been Captain he still had not gotten used to approaching the Division entrance and thinking that it was now his to command, as was a squad of shinigami, an irritable blonde and a rather bizarre third chair that he had removed from prison, which technically was illegal, but that didn't matter.

Urahara knew how to pull strings, after all.

After trying and failing to stop their argument, the three of them made their way into the building, and Shinji informed Kisuke of the purpose behind his visit: apparently the Captain Commander was still expressing some concerns about Mayuri. He had been told to make an unofficial, unsuspicious and understated observation of how well he was settling in to the division. And Shinji had, as Shinji was wont to, decided to tell Kisuke what he was there for. He was a man built for honesty.

Or, perhaps, he just hadn't learnt subtlety yet.

Kisuke had no problem with this. After all, he was fairly sure that he had a good grasp on what his subordinates were doing.

"Ah, this way. His room is down here. Apparently he's been working on some of my prototypes for artificially developed bodies."

Shinji nodded, as if to pretend that he knew what Kisuke meant. However, his nod seemed to stop mid-motion as Kisuke swung the door open, and revealed a long line of six-foot high tubes, full of gelatinous liquid. But that wasn't what was really causing their expressions of shock.

One of the tubes was half empty, puddles of liquid dripped across the floor as if by someone walking.

A shadow was cast against the back wall from a bright desk light, the shadow of a man standing, and a figure kneeling in front of him, no light between the two of them.

Mayuri turned, slowly, as if he did not care at the interruption, and raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps, Captain, you would care to knock next time?"

The girl kneeling in front of him said nothing, but then, her mouth was rather full.

The door shut rather quickly, after that.


	380. Trust

Requested by Tolkien'sInkwell- thank you

Idea totally stolen from the adorable Kimi ni Todoke. And I don't care. Because it needs more love. :)

Toushiro x Ururu

**Trust**

When Urahara had suggested that the best way to thank Toushiro for helping her sort out the stockroom was to take hold of his shirt and close her eyes, she hadn't questioned it. After all, Urahara always had her best interests at heart, and he was a very wise man who knew many things about the world and how people work. Or he said he did, anyway.

And so, when she saw him pass the kitchen door, she darted out, grabbed hold of the back of his blue shirt and did exactly what Urahara told her to do.

Toushiro Hitsugaya, a Captain of the Gotei 13 was experienced in battle, danger, and bloodshed, but easily confused when it came to that bizarre and unavoidable emotion that always crept up on him whenever an attractive woman was around, found himself blinking down at her, and wondering quite what he was meant to do in this sort of situation.

After all, it sort of looked like she was trying to kiss him…

For a moment he leant down, ever so slightly, but before he got close Ururu opened her eyes.

"Thank you for your help, Hitsugaya-san."

"… what?"

She smiled, a rare and small smile that none the less made him blush.

"Urahara-san said you would appreciate me doing that."

Toushiro scowled.

He was going to make sure she learnt that putting her trust in that perverted shopkeeper was a very foolish idea.


	381. Volcanic

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Renji x Tatsuki

**Volcanic**

Everyone assumed that it was her who had the explosive temperament, he who became the victim to angry rants and the occasional, and not vindictive, violent outburst. And they could think that, if they wanted; he certainly didn't seem to mind that this was the impression that people got of the two of them. He played the clown so well, not to mention the way that Rukia always shot him down, that it really wasn't that surprising people got this impression.

But it wasn't the case, not really, not in private.

Renji matched his hair; she was sure that she could have come up with some sort of pun about him being fiery if she wanted to, only she knew that it wasn't right. He didn't flicker like a fire in a grate, looking like strips of fabric in the wind; his rages were explosive, volcanic.

He erupted inexplicably, and she had to run for cover.

It was rarely directed at her; well, not unless they were arguing, in which case she gave as much as she got. His anger came and went, about all the things under the sun that broke him down and brought him up again. The fights he lost, the fights he had won but didn't think he deserved to; Ichigo, his Captain, the women he had loved and the women who had loved him. The streets he had been dragged through, the past he still remembered and the people who looked down on him.

Everything, in fact, that still wore him down.

But his explosion were brief; a quick, strong heat that was over before it could burn. And she could cope with that, could live with this moments of rage; in fact, in a lot of ways, she liked them.

It proved his passion, that he had not stopped feeling.

And that passion, she learnt very quickly, came in many forms.


	382. Farm

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Starrk and Ulquiorra

**Farm**

It truly was the most unlikely of situations that the Primera Espada would be staring at Ulquiorra over the clean white linen and sparkling silver wear of a dinner table. No doubt another one of Aizen's experiments that they would never quite understand, something about society and manners or some other sort of bullshit like that. And just what were all this miniature blades doing lying neatly on the table? Someone had forgotten them, surely? Starrk picked one up, and tested his thumb against it.

They needed to give them a good sharpening, whilst they were at it.

The first course was brought out, by confused looking arrancar in what appeared to be aprons. It was, according to the laminated card that Aizen had provided for them, soup.

"Do you know what soup is?"

Ulquiorra did not appear to hear him. Starrk rolled his eyes. Typical.

He picked up the thing labelled 'Menu' again and looked closer at the 'First Course' section.

_~First Course~_

_A Provencal legume and chicken soup, seasoned with sage and cracked pepper_

Well, whatever that was.

_~Main Course~_

_A succulent steak, cut from finest British beef and served with potato dauphenois and seasonable vegetables_

"What is beef?"

Ulquiorra made a slight movement, indicating that speech was coming.

"It is meat, from an omnivorous bovine. I am not aware of its origins or manufacture."

Starrk blinked at the silent arrancar sided away their untouched soup. He wasn't sure if humans were able to eat very quickly, or if the arrancar just didn't know what they were doing. He was very aware of the conspicuous two-way mirror, and the people behind watching it.

"Oh really? I think I may have heard of that. Are they those big black and white things you see in fields? It's something to do with farms, isn't it?"

Ulquiorra inclined his head ever so slightly to the side.

"Ignorant human trash, with their meaningless ways."

"Yes, yes. Those things. But farms, they sound like a place where I could get some sleep, don't you think? They always smell nice, of cut grass."

But Ulquiorra had fallen silent, unwilling to reciprocate conversation or, Starrk observed, even willing to appear alive. Oh well. He supposed he was still better company that Lilynette on a bad morning. The nervous arrancar brought out two more plates. These appeared to have a slice of burnt flesh on them, surrounded by circular beige things and an odd array of what looked like miniature trees and green sticks.

Starrk prodded it with the strange, pronged instrument before the arrancar, who looked very unwell, picked up the plates and walked out with them.

"Y'know, I think Ichimaru might have mentioned something about this. Human's absorb this sort of thing for energy and sustenance, I think."

Ulquiorra turned his head to the side, and muttered something that sounded derogatory.

Starrk decided to ignore it.

_~Desert~_

_A delicate tarte tatin with chantilly cream and an apricot coulis_

Well.

Starrk looked up at his fellow Espada, contemplated, and decided against asking.


	383. Hop

Requested by Ngoc Chau- thank you

Yachiru (and Kenpachi)

**Hop**

Her father- or the closest thing that she had to a father- watched her playing in the strange little playground that she had discovered squashed between two slums in the Rukongai.

She had abandoned the see-saw about ten minutes previously, after accidentally throwing the little boy on the other end into the second floor guttering, and had moved on to the hopscotch.

He watched this with a slightly bored eye; Yachiru, hopping along and forcibly elbowing a little girl with fairy wings out of the way in her desire to get to the eighth square. He could see a couple of mothers tutting and mumbling something about bullying on the other side of the playground to them, but he was pretty sure his own appearance- which was also getting disapproving glances- was keeping them at bay.

Yachiru wasn't a bully, anyway; people just got in her way. And, just like he had taught her, people in her way just needed a healthy shove in the right direction.

Needless to say, that direction was anywhere a long way away from them.

He grinned to himself as she took another hop, skip and a jump over the complicated chalk blocks.

Chip of the old block, in that respect.


	384. East

Requested by Asiram- thank you

Urahara x Yoruichi

**East**

He woke early, if he had fallen asleep at all, and some days if he was feeling whimsical he would sit on the roof of his run down Shoten and watch the sun rise over the up-and-down, piled up roofs of the town, setting the glass and steel alight with violet and peach and gold.

He would tilt his hat and let those rays warm his face briefly, before ducking back down into the underbelly of activity that was his shop.

If she was around, Yoruichi would sit somewhere he couldn't see her and watch him. She was never sure if he knew whether she was there or not; Kisuke rarely missed anything, but she was one of the best at hiding. She would watch the stubble grazing his cheeks, the flash of his hair.

Some days she wondered what it would be like, if they were just normal people and she had not been born with this irrepressible urge to wander.

She could have been his housewife, in another life, she thinks sometimes. Or they could have been partners in an intrepid company. He could have been a farmer in a rustic, warm country, a fisherman on tempestuous, blue seas, and she his wife to cook and to clean, to raise children. She could have been his mistress, or a prostitute in a Shanghai brothel. He could have been a seaman, fallen in love with her, a water nymph reaching out of the waves for his embrace, lost to her watery eyes. He an artist, she his muse, or the other way around. A wealthy widow seducing an innocent boy. Standing there, silhouetted by the light of the rising sun, he could be anything, anywhere, but still her Kisuke, the only man she has ever loved. She has seen many things, around the world.

Or none of those, if only he could roam with her, wherever the wind took her. To Babylon, to the deepest corners of the ocean, to the highest mountains. To the newest cities and the oldest ruins, to Eden itself.

But even then, would it have worked?

So many things seemed to come between them, always another obstacle to that embrace that would make a difference, that would change that unspoken bond between them to something deeper, to what they both wanted. Always a place where the separate paths of their lives forked away, rather than coming together again.

They needed more, to be together. Life had proved simply too hard.

So maybe further. If they kept going towards that rising sun, until the light blinded them of everything but each other, then perhaps the world would cease to matter.

Maybe, east of Eden, they would work.


	385. Speeding

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Grimmjow and Kenpachi

**Speeding**

The Gotei 13 has a long held and well focused tradition of not getting along very well with other people. Whether they be hollow, human or something in between, on whatever side of death, you can bet that the Gotei, at some point in their long and established history, had some sort of a problem with them.

But now, as some of the older and more traditional shinigami mutter under their breath, things are clearly changing. Now is a time for these newer, more liberal shinigami who talk about getting along with people and being friends and other things that the Captain Commander shakes his head at in the privacy of his own office, where he does not have to be diplomatically polite to the new Central46 and their idiocy.

One such Captain that always raises eyebrows is not liberal as such: it's more that he doesn't give a shit about what he is meant to be doing at all, and is only bothered by the perceptions that the one eye that he allows to see takes in.

Kenpachi is not altogether bothered that his odd new friendship is causing raised eyebrows and odd looks all around the Sereitai. In fact, that they were Hollow and Shinigami, and not supposed to get along, didn't occur to either of them. But then, Grimmjow had never really been one for sticking to the rules anyway.

That was one thing they had in common.

One thing that they did know was that, in their worlds of blood and mayhem, there was something very therapeutic about throwing down their swords in the world of Hueco Mundo, one of the last neutral places in the worlds now that the antagonistic hollows and arrancar had been disposed of, and racing.

It had been Yachiru's idea, and she was proud of it.

Seeing the two of them bellow across the sands, with all the speed that they could, made her grin. Kenpachi looked wild, Grimmjow bestial, but they seemed to be having quite a lot of fun together. She was glad.

Ken-chan had needed a new friend.


	386. Fair

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Ichigo x Tatsuki

**Fair**

Orihime was gone; the tears had dried on her cheeks and her eyes were sore. She didn't understand where her friend had been taken, didn't understand how this other place connected with the world that she knew and lived in. All of a sudden, she had understood that, really, there was a whole lot that she didn't understand any more. It wasn't fair, but that was life.

But it would be okay, she knew for sure.

After all, there were people who lived to save others, people who were meant to be heroes, and she knew that Ichigo would do anything to rescue Orihime, and bring her back to them.

But still, she found that the tears were welling up again, fresh sorrow. She had not cried for a very long time; perhaps her body had been waiting for the chance to let go.

And now he was stood there, here in front of her, waiting for her to say something. That was always him; never speaking unless something called for him to do so. She couldn't even make out the details of his face, just faint contours, the rest hidden by the shadows cast by the falling sunlight, slanting through the block windows and turning the walls of display work golden.

She rubbed her cheek.

"You'll bring her back, wont you?"

He nodded, as if he had expected the question, and why wouldn't he? It was the obvious thing to say.

"And…" here she paused, suddenly wondering whether or not to continue.

He turned his head slightly to the side, and without a word walked to her, so quietly that she could barely hear his footsteps on the floor. She could see his face now, the frown, the concentration and, underneath it all, the faint smile she could always see when he looked at her. Without a word she rested her hand against his cheek, pressed her body to his and felt that comforting, familiar arm wrap around her back, the drop of a kiss on the top of her head.

"Come back safe, for me?"


	387. Segregation

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Tousen and Aizen

**Segregation**

Komamura had told him once, in those early years of their friendship, of a human who once had said that no man is an island.

Perhaps his old friend told him this as a way to show him a wish to break their isolation; perhaps it was an arbitrary comment with no deeper meaning, but Tousen had never forgotten it.

He understood the logic of it.

He understood why some people believed in it.

But for him, it meant nothing. He was a man born to be alone, a man of segregation.

He was an island.

And he appreciated Aizen, because the man understood it.

Aizen was a men who, despite the many flaws that Tousen could count, believed in isolation, who knew the power that he could create by cutting people off from the rest of the world. He was a man of deceit and death, and Tousen was a man who hated himself for siding with a regime so evil, even if he believed it would be the quickest way to his ideal world. He was a man who despised the army that he fought for, who couldn't stand the leader that he took orders from.

He hated himself.

An island, if you will, that lived in hypocrisy, but it was an isolation that he decided upon to punish himself for this.

Tousen lived a life of segregation, and that was the cross that he chose to bear.


	388. Tell

Requested by Stonecreek- thank you

Unohana, Jyuushiro and Shunsui

**Tell**

She watched the two of them standing there, looking ever so young. She couldn't help but smile; they stood close enough to belay their friendship, as well as their nervousness. Soon enough, these two young boys would become Captains of the Gotei 13, and though they fully deserved it with their power and strengths, they would be very conspicuous none the less.

"Good luck, the two of you."

They turned, in sync, and blanched at the sight of her. Not because she was a threatening looking Captain, or because she had a reputation for anything untoward, but mainly because, as all three of them knew very well, she had been fortunate enough to run into these two famous prodigies at a previous point in time.

In the early hours of the morning.

On a dirty street corner.

Whilst they were steaming drunk.

The unhealthy white sheen changed to a spreading blush on their cheeks, tinting Jyuushiro's nose pink. Unohana smiled at them both, trying not to think about how adorable the two of them were, standing side by side like that. It was difficult, particularly when they were looking so embarrassed, but she knew that if she started thinking this way she'd never be able to take their suggestions or their abilities seriously in the future.

"Ah, thank you, Captain Unohana," Jyuushiro's chin wobbled a little nervously. "We, ah, will do our best."

Shunsui said nothing, but a smile was creeping on his pink cheeks. She could tell that he was going to come out with something that would make his friend blush even brighter before his mouth even opened.

"And, er, sorry about the other night Captain."

Jyuushiro was clearly struck with horror at his friend's impudence.

"What we mean to say, Captain, is that we... I mean, that of course we never... really-"

"Don't worry," she smiled, "I won't tell."

With a swish of her Captain's cloak, she turned, hiding her laughter.


	389. Lotion

For Editor-chan

Shunsui x Matsumoto

**Lotion**

"Shunsuiiiiii?"

"Yes, my dear?"

The sun beat down on the two of them, spread out on the roof of the Thirteenth Division's main building (it was quiet down there today, as Jyuushiro was at home, ill, his work being done from his bedroom). The perfect place, in fact, to skive; no one to answer his Lieutenant's angry butterflies about his location when there was paper-work to be done.

"I have a favour to ask…"

She rolled onto her side with a pout and exaggerated pose, the kind she knew always made him smile. And indeed it did; he tipped back the brim of his hat, the corner of his mouth twitching at the sight of her body, spread out and oiled with lotion, bikini barely covering the parts of her body that remained, much to his continued disappointment, inappropriate for public view.

Still, he couldn't help but take in a still-pleasurable view.

Very pleasurable, in fact...

She raised an eyebrow at his stares.

This unseasonable heatwave wasn't the only thing heating up the two of them.

"What is it?"

Her uniform was abandoned in favour of her swimsuit; her workload left the same way on her desk for her Captain to fume over. He had rolled up his sleeves, not as concerned as Rangiku with the bronzing of his body to a sun-kissed perfection.

"More lotion please?"

She threw him the bottle; he grinned again. She didn't need any more lotion, and with a feeling of self-satisfaction that was masked only by an sudden wave of overwhelming lust, considered removing more clothing.

After all, the day was already heating up.


	390. Jump

For Editor-chan. Cheers, love.

Starrk x Shunsui

**Jump**

The jump has always been the hardest part.

He figured that one out looking down at the naked man in front of him, supine on the bed in a darkened room, asleep, clearly having fallen to under in that position, which looked so awkward to an onlooker, his arm thrown across his eyes in that way. His breathing was deep and rhythmic, no signs of unrest. Stubble grazed his face, looking almost purple in the light from the moonlight, filtered through the light-coloured curtains.

He could see the rise and fall of his chest, the way the light angled across his ribcage.

It is the first step that is the most difficult.

He knew what it was that the other man wanted; he knew that he wanted the same. That was the only simple thing about this whole situation, he thought to himself, the only thing that was even remotely simple. This thing, for which he could find no fitting name for, that crept up upon him on nights light this and made him come here, through moonlight streets and shadowed alleyways. This thing, that, some nights, seemed to control him; and all he needed to do, right now, was to move, to make this dream come true.

It was just crossing that boundary, over into the no-man's land of love and loss, when the two of them had been stood at such a stalemate for so long.

He knew that if they just let it be, and hoped for something to happen naturally, then it never would.

No one ever wants to make the first move.

He knew what he needed to do; just reach forward, shake him awake. That might be enough, with the look in his eyes. He feared, right now, that his expression hid nothing. He might whisper a few words or maybe just slide into bed besides him, feel their skin together. Kiss him, make him his own, give himself up to their feelings. And from there…wherever.

That was all he needed to do.

So hard, so easy.

He took a deep breath, and jumped.


	391. Live

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Ichigo x Grimmjow

**Live**

_They grow._

Furious battles turned more into furious words; soon zanpakuto were not drawn, just annoyed fists raised to throw punches, perhaps with a little less fervour than they would have done once. Things move on in the world, in their knowledge and outside of it as well. The two of them age as well, at different speeds, though they don't realise that they are doing it. Soon, when they happen upon each other, conversation flows before an inevitable argument.

Still, that's progress, of its own kind.

One day things move in a way that no one expected and that they themselves were not really sure about, but they don't complain, not too much. It feels too nice for that, really. Everything is better this way, they seem to fit. Ichigo has never been able to find anyone that feels as right as he does, and Grimmjow has just never found anyone who he can actually trust.

So things move on.

Years pass. They grow closer, and more secretive. Life, in its normal way, moves on, and soon the new shinigami recruits that Ichigo sees from time to time can't even name all of the Espada from the Great Winter War. They remember him, though, and come to talk to him or sometimes just to stare, as if he is something in a zoo.

His sisters are grown up, he notices one day, and wonders where the time has gone. Everything seems to move so fast, rushing by him like a fast flowing river. No one clings on to those things in the world that are unmoving, he thinks, like he must. His constant is Grimmjow, besides him. The former-Espada never changes, and he doesn't know whether that is a good thing or a bad thing, just knows that their love is as strong as it ever was.

He wonders why the world has to move so fast, and why the only things people cling to are faded glories.

So, he thinks to himself, this is what my father was talking about.

_They flourish._

And, finally, the age begins to show.

Grey hairs appear in the bright orange that seems to fade, wrinkles form around his eyes. Grimmjow looks the same as ever but grows quieter, his visits longer but with more space between. He talks sometimes about thinking things over. Ichigo doesn't know what he means, but trusts him to make the right decision. His place, for now, is as a substitute shinigami. He watches over the world with the introverted smile of a man that knows that it is his duty to do so, but can't help but wish that he was somewhere else.

He loves, still. His sisters and their children, his friends and their families, the man who visits less and less, but who loves him still, just the same.

Ichigo knows it's hard, for him, to see him this way.

Life moves on, he follows, the rear guard. The shinigami don't visit him so often any more; he thinks they do not know what to make of his age when they have barely changed. Renji is a Captain now though, Rukia a Lieutenant, Kenpachi the same as ever, apparently. Byakuya is still an ass. Jyuushiro is still ill, Toushiro still has his tantrums. Ikkaku still gets into brawls, Yumichika still wears feathers.

It's nice to know, he thinks, that they are doing well.

Many years later, Ichigo shrugged himself out of his human body for the final time, and finding himself younger again, muttered a bemused 'huh,' under his breath. He watches his sisters cry around his body, and they are old too now, his nieces and nephews with children of their own.

He will miss them.

Grimmjow is standing next to him still, and Ichigo remembers how good it feels to be this young again. He hasn't spoken to Grimmjow for many years, but they both know why that is. Some things are too hard. Now, he is released from the constrains of humanity, and Grimmjow has returned to him, is back at his side again.

It is a feeling that they have both missed. There is no anger between them any more.

The former-Espada reaches a hand across to him, and Ichigo takes it.

Time to move on with the rest of it, together.

_They live._


	392. Soft

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Gin and Aizen (among others)

**Soft**

Gin, despite all outward appearances, didn't really like Aizen all that much. To be honest, the man was far too boring, always obsessed with taking-over-the-world-this, or becoming-a-god-that. Not much fun, in the long run. Not like Matsumoto, who always had an anecdote to share, or Izuru, with his witty quips. Almost as bad as the Captain-Commander, in fact, and he never thought he would have to say that. But really, Las Noches was boring with only Aizen for company (Tousen didn't really count; his conversation revolved around my-love-of-justice and one-day-justice-will-be-served and oh-god-how-justice pleases me, which got a little weird after a while). Never a joke, never a gossip about the arrancar. Awfully dull.

Really, though there were more motives for killing Aizen, he supposed that was probably the main reason. He was getting a little stir crazy.

Cabin fever, if you wish.

Ohh, there was the fact that he didn't really want the worlds to be ruined, and all that, but that one featured much later on the list. Not as important as a decent knock-knock joke (the arrancar just couldn't get their heads around the concept at all; why knock on a door when you could cero it to pieces?).

So, for lack of a better thing to do, he tried to kill Aizen.

Seriously, not as easy as it sounds.

First, he decided to try poison.

He left an array of tasty treats laced with deadly arsenic around the place, but other arrancar kept eating them instead. He had a rather awkward week of trying to cover up for all these deaths, though Zommari wasn't complaining too much, gaining entrance to the Espada as one idiot ate a poisoned chocolate bon bon. But really, he thought his days of dragging around corpses were over.

Then, he thought he should try and poison Aizen's actual meals, but after two weeks of extensive investigation had to conclude that the man just didn't eat. Perhaps he fuelled himself on his own sense of self-satisfaction, instead.

Yes, in hindsight, that seemed quite feasible.

His next plan was a trap, but after a clandestine trip to the human world realised that bear-traps might be a little bit too complicated, and someone might noticing him digging a hole in the ground in the hopes that Aizen might fall into it. Although the idea of putting mouse traps in his bed was a tempting thought, once more he didn't think he had ever seen Aizen sleep. Did the freak even have a bed?

Perhaps insomnia can be cured with arrogance- he made a note to ask someone about that. Maybe Hitsugaya, or Soifon, next time he saw them.

So, on to plan three.

If he somehow could convince an Espada to do the dirty deed, then he could quietly dispose of them afterwards in the name of revenge and no one would be any the wiser. That might be quite nice, even; good old fashioned revenge, simple and a lot of fun for everyone involved.

But who could be used? Yammy was out of the question, as was Aaroniero, both of them were too stupid. Szayel would be more likely to report Gin in an attempt to gain favour for more lab space and he didn't like to talk to Leroux, the creature was far too odd. No, he did not want to be taught to pirouette, thank you very much, no matter how good his legs might look in a tutu. Of course, there was the problem that they'd all end up dead anyway, as would Grimmjow and Nnoitra.

Ulquiorra wouldn't have anything to do with it, he was sure- far too much of a brown noser for that. Harribel never gave him the time of day (he suspected it might be because of the time that he tried to grope her, but it was hardly his fault- he was homesick, and they were too reminiscent of Rangiku's to resist). Baraggan would be the easiest to convince, but Starrk had more of a chance, though trying to get the Primera off his lazy arse was nigh on impossible.

Gin spent several weeks of espionage and talking with subtlety to the Espada before concluding that it was probably not going to work. He might as well go back to the bear trap idea.

He wondered if he had become a little bit soft in the head, or if Aizen really _was_ as vastly superior to everyone as he claimed to be.

Gin thought about this for a little while, and came to the conclusion that sometimes, the most simple of methods were the most effective.

He decided to stab Aizen through the head, instead.

It worked better.


	393. Only

Requested by Saluta-Blue- thank you

Ichigo and Hichigo

**Only**

_There was only one thing._

Sometimes he woke up in the night with a shiver, and knew that his hollow had been grinding its teeth. Sometimes he was sat in class when he felt himself become inexplicably aroused, and couldn't shake the feeling that his hollow was doing inappropriate things to itself in the recesses of Ichigo's mind. Sometimes he was drifting to sleep and would wake up with a start at the thought that he could hear people talking in the street outside, before realising it was just his hollow raging at nothing. Sometimes he dreamt that his hollow was real, outside of his mind. Those were the sweetest and most bitter of dreams, and he always woke from them a little afraid.

He could never forget that presence.

People noticed, he just didn't care any more. Perhaps it was slightly obsessive, but what was the worst that could happen?

_Just the one thing._

He was scared to admit that the only thing in the world that he dared to trust with his life was his sword, even more scared to believe that the only person he wanted to trust with his body was his hollow. His world was becoming more and more introverted to the powers in his head, and the problem was, he didn't care.

People told him that he was talking less, that his expressions were becoming more and more vacant.

When his hollow could touch in that way that he did, when his tongue felt just like that, he could think of nothing else.

The only thing in the world that mattered.

Despite everything else.

And it was staring back at him, in the mirror, through his own eyes.


	394. Dew

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Jyuushiro x Kira

**Dew**

Izuru embraced him as he wept, shivering in the darkened garden. He could smell cut grass in the air, feel the pressure of the day that had been hot, but was slowly fading away. He touched Izuru's shoulder with one hand, the wall with his other. Two touches to anchor him; one to ground him to the world, the other to living still.

The air still held the warmth of the summer day, but he was shivering for different reasons. The crickets whirred in the long grass on the other side of the garden wall; Jyuushiro's tears rolled down his pale face as he breathed deeply, filling his lungs with outside air for the first time in a month.

Neither of them had thought that he would make it; neither had left the confines of the Fourth division since Jyuushiro had accepted defeat and allowed himself to be transferred there.

There had been so much blood, so much pain. He had thought, for a while that he could see the end of it all.

And now, though it was beyond belief, he found himself alive.

Izuru felt the dampness of Jyuushiro's tears on his own face, and smiled to himself. It was a small smile, that could perhaps have been mistaken for bitterness, though he felt more a mixture of relief and concern. It had been a great many years since he had last cried.

Jyuushiro was glad, when he saw that smile, that he had fought against that ending.

They slept on the grass that night, wrapped around each other and breathing in the sweet, warm air as their pale skin shone white in the darkness. The occasional breeze moved drifts of goose-pimples up their arms, but they tucked their bodies closer together, pulling the Captain's cloak of the thirteenth division over themselves.

Hope let them sleep deep, sleep long. It was the sleep of those that know, for now, things were going to be all right.

They woke up damp from the dew, and kissed in the grey, pre-dawn light.


	395. Opposite

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Toushiro and Rukia

**Opposite**

Ice held different meanings for the two of them.

Neither of these meanings had any lesser or greater meaning or potency, and at the same time were as close as opposite as could be.

The most important thing, though, was that it scared them.

Captain Hitsugaya had first discovered the power of ice when he was told that it was killing the only adult that he had ever cared about; not because there was a harsh winter setting in, or because she had inadequate shelter, but because the cold power he was unable to control was enough to threaten her.

That destroyed what was left of his childhood, the understanding that he was killing her.

Rukia Kuchiki first realised just how the power of ice could be used to get over the nightmares which plagued her sleep, by destroying monster who wore the face of the only man that she had ever loved. That was the moment that she realised that ice, the power of her zanpakuto, could be a comfort, in it's way.

A bitter comfort; the memories of that night still sent a chill down her spine.

But despite this, ice made Toushiro think of what was to come; the powers that he still had not fully come to terms with, the strengths that he still had not learnt. The dragon wrapped around his heart kept him always on his guard, always waiting to be tested, always ready for the worst to happen.

And for Rukia, the touch of frost on a window frame would always remind her of the cold reception of her adoptive family, the winter streets of the Rukongai with no food, the chill of her brother's indifference and the impermeable ice that had taken hold of her on the night Kaien had died.

For Toushiro, ice meant the future.

For Rukia, ice meant the past.

It protected them, aided them, helped them through the bitter days and the bloody battles.

And at the same time, they knew how much it could kill.

The both of them, undeniably, thought of ice with fear.


	396. Droop

*Waves sheepishly. Hello everyone, remember me? I'm back with a new update, the theme based on various internet pages about 'Top ten tips to train your new dog'.

**How to Train Your Lieutenant  
**  
Shinji and Momo

**Droop**

_"1. Watch your pet and his body language."_

Momo found herself staring at the floor on her Captain's first day in the office.

She found that the rest of the first week went in a very similar way.

Shinji watched his new Lieutenant with a slight smile, and wondered what the best way to drag her out of herself would be. On the first day, he asked her to pass him a folder, and she nearly fell over herself trying to get it to him, almost before the words were out of his mouth. He had given her his broad smile in return, and she had flinched away, as if he were about to bite her.

Hmm, he thought. A nervy one, then. And one that is eager to please.

On the second day, he told her to run an errand for him, and when she came back it was with a split lip from where she had fallen flat on her face in her haste to get it done as quickly as possible. She looked at him with surprise when he told her she was an idiot, and blushed bright red.

On the third day she bought him a bento for lunch, and he told her that though it was nice of her to do so, he enjoyed making his own lunch normally. On the fourth day he brought her lunch. She stared at it as if she didn't know what to do with it.

"Eat it," he laughed. "It's called reciprocation."

On the fifth day he watched her nervously try and order the division in training, and watched her fail miserably at it. She did not speak loud enough for everyone to hear, and was not inspiring enough for the ones who could.

She had stared at him in panic and he had looked right back at her and shrugged, the message loud and clear.

_You sort it out. _

On the sixth day she turned up, albeit nervously, with a megaphone. That caught their attention. She stood at the front, bright red with embarrassment, but for the first time working independently. She had always been a Lieutenant that relied on her Captain to do all of the motivation and to protect her. It had come as a shock but it was clear: Shinji would not put up with that shit, and he would not comfort her when she screwed up.

It made her want to cry, but at the same time, it forced a determination out of her that she had never felt before.

The seventh day was a day of rest for the two of them, and he asked her if they wanted to train with each other. They sparred and he knocked her time and time again to the floor until that familiar, tearful expression of hopelessness returned. He reached out, and pulled her to her feet.

"I'm not going to tell you that it is alright to be soft. You are a shinigami and a Lieutenant, now act like one."

The second week began, and her backbone began to flower.

Leaning back in his chair, Shinji was satisfied with the progress.


	397. Terror

Mayuri and Nemu

**Terror  
**  
_"2. Listen and interpret their barks and noises"_

Mayuri liked the fact that he had created his Lieutenant. It had meant that he avoided the tiresome interview process, and that he had been able to plan out her personality, and mould her into something that he had wanted.

"Am I not a genius for thinking of doing such a thing?"

"Yes, Mayuri-sama."

And yet, despite the face that he should have created a perfect Lieutenant, over time he had noticed that he had not, quite, been successful. Because even though she was a creation from a test tube, DNA chosen and altered by him, he still could not avoid that humanity creeping in.

"And aren't you a piece of worthless trash, the most pointless thing I have ever created?"

"Of course, Mayuri-sama."

He nodded with approval. Despite everything else, the reverence and despair in her voice were enough to please him and to convince him of her complete and utter subservience and loyalty to him, despite everything that he put her through. And, when all was said and done, he enjoyed the fact that his very presence inspired such terror in her.

"Aren't you glad you have me here to teach you just how pathetic you are, and how pointless you always will be?"

"Always, Mayuri-sama."

He nodded.

"Now, cease your useless prattling and get from my sight. I am sick of listening to you."

"Yes, Mayuri-sama."

She bowed low, and as she rose she was struck full in the face by the back of her Captain's hand, forcing her head to one side and making her take a step backwards in shock at the pain and the strength of the blow.

"I thought I told you to shut your damn face."

She nodded, face white, and slid from the room. He turned back to his bench with a frown. Despite everything he had done, she still had that small bone of resentment and disobedience in her, that small part of her that caused her to speak when she should remain silent, that formed ideas that she should not have.

He lifted up a scalpel, and considered a lobotomy.

Maybe that would make the humanity go away.


	398. Go

Soifon and Omaeda

**Go**

"_3. Don't hit - ever!"_

"Omaeda, down!"

He dropped to the floor immediately, trusting that his Captain had good reason to yell the order at him. Above his head, an arrancar's attack curved right through the place where, just a moment ago, he had been standing.

"Sit!"

He sat down obediently as she started to lecture him on the appalling state of his handwriting on the latest set of forms that had been sent back to the Division to be re-written, on the grounds of them being completely illegible.

"Fetch!"

He ran back to the office to collect her Captain's haori as they were summoned from their training grounds to an emergency meeting with the Captain Commander, as she began to bark orders for the rest of the division's training session.

"Go!"

She nodded to herself. There was nothing more impressive than a well ordered division, except possibly for a Lieutenant who took orders well.

"But Captain, I'm tired!"

Without even blinking, she spun on her heel and delivered to his jaw a blow that knocked him off his feet. She glared down at him, and he stared back, resigned.

"I'll go, Captain."

She nodded.

Damn right.


	399. Fault

Rose and Kira

**Fault  
**  
_"4. Praise your pet appropriately"_

"You've done very well here, given the circumstances."

His tone was approving, but unintentionally patronising.

"I am aware of that."

Rose nodded, slowly. The tour continued, and the fact that it was entirely unnecessary was not lost on either Captain or Lieutenant. In the century or so that Rose had been absent the building had barely changed- everything was where it had once been. But Kira felt the need to show the Captain around, as if to prove to himself that this division was his, that he was welcoming a stranger to. It felt too strange otherwise.

Rose understood that this was the reasoning, and took it with good grace. He knew full well that Kira had been running the division as a Captain since Ichimaru had left, and no doubt had harboured hopes, even if only small ones, of no new Captain being needed.

"This is the equipment room. We keep the training gear stored here."

A nod, and several more moments of silence. As they rounded a corner, nearing the end of the tour of the division, another shinigami jumped out of the way of them, too used to having to hide when stumbling upon a Captain.

Rose caught sight of the mixed expression of contempt and frustration on his new Lieutenant's face.

"It isn't your fault."

The expression turned instantly blank again.

"I know."

Hmm. Rose wasn't sure what his next step should be with this strange man. It seemed impossible to make any headway with him. Despite the several times that they had met before in the run up to his return, he had not in any way been able to forge a bond between them, had struggled to connect to his new Lieutenant.

"I read your profile, before I came back. It is very impressive. You seem to run this division with a great amount of skill and direction."

Again, the cold brush off.

"I had to. My old Captain never cared much for the practical side of running the division."

If anything, he seemed even chillier now. Rose really was at a loss. There really was only one option left to try now.

"You have very pretty hair."

To his satisfaction, he saw Kira's face shade red with pleased embarrassment. Looking left and right, to make sure that no one was nearby who might overhear, he leant in, and whispered to his new Captain.

"It's my conditioner. I'll lend you some."

A little warmer now, he concluded the tour with the adjacent quarters of the Captain and Lieutenant, and really did produce a bottle of conditioner for him to borrow. He arrived in the office the next day with hair twice as shiny as it had been the day before. Kira nodded, approvingly, and Rose felt that a connection had been forged between the two of them.

"I told you so."


	400. Eden

Shunsui and Nanao

**Eden**

"_5. Create a friendly environment for your dog"_

Nanao was used to the madness in her division. She was used to her Captain doing anything he possibly could to avoid his work. But until now, he had never gone so far as to do this.

She stood in the doorway to her office, blinking.

Where had he found palm trees from?

"Captain, what the hell are you doing?"

"See something you like?"

He smiled at her from across the room, where he was laid out on a deck chair, wearing only a pair of swimming trunks and a cheesy grin. His Captain's haori was slung over the back of the deck chair, his hairy chest bare to the luminous strip lighting from the ceiling.

She shook her head, and took a step into the room. Underfoot, the floorboards crunched. She rolled her eyes. It would take weeks to get sand out from the cracks between each board.

"Might I ask, Captain, why you have turned my office into a beach?"

He reached to the table next to him, and brought out two cocktail glasses filled with a luminous pink mixture, a paper umbrella stuck out of the top.

"The results of your annual physical came in, Nanao. Unohana recommended that I give you some leave, so that you could take a break from all of the stress I put you through."

Nanao stuck her clipboard under her arm

"Captain, if I took a holiday, this whole division would fall apart in a week."

He nodded.

"Exactly. So, I brought the holiday to you. And, as a special treat, if you come and sit next to me, I will sign absolutely any form that you want me to, without complaining at all."

Despite herself, she found that she was interested.

"Will you fill in forms, as well?"

He winked.

"Anything for you today, Nanao, as long as you drink your cocktail."

She rolled her eyes, sat down, and took her glass. As she passed him the first stack of forms, she carefully poured it into one of the potted palm trees. She thought the plant might appreciate it more than she would.


	401. Toy

Toushiro and Matsumoto

**Toy**

"_6. Don't let your dog grow bored at any time"_

"Matsumoto!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Why haven't you filled out the recruitment evaluation forms that I gave you a week ago?"

She paused, a finger against her pouting lips, clearly thinking.

"I did, didn't I?"

He shook his head, clenching his fist., slowly shaking his head.

"No, Matsumoto, you drew flowers in the margins."

"Oh, that was probably because I was bored, Captain."

"That is not an excuse!"

"But this office is so boring Captain! Didn't you hear, Captain Kyouraku turned Nanao's room into a beach for the day last week. Why can't we do something like that?"

He took a seat at his desk, regretting that his predecessor had thought it a good idea to knock through the walls and make one office for the Captain and Lieutenant.

"Because, Matsumoto, if I did that, then you would request one day off first for bikini shopping, and then another afternoon for sunbathing so that you wouldn't feel pale in said bikini, and then the morning off to get a body wax, and then-"

"Captain, you know me so well!"

He frowned at her.

"Exactly. And that is why I am not turning our office into a beach, or a theme park, or a sauna, or any other crack pot idea that you get into your head."

"But Captain, it's so boring in here! If you don't do _something _to liven it up then I wont get any work done!"

"You don't get any work done anyway!"

However, despite his reservations, he still found himself pausing outside a shop window later that day, thinking about what kind of toy his Lieutenant might require to keep her satisfied.

Hmm…

"Captain, why do we have a new window in here?"

"You said you needed a distraction."

"But what… oh."

He nodded, silently applauding his intelligence. He doubted his Lieutenant had even known that the east wall of their office overlooked the training grounds of the ninth division. Down below, Hisagi and Kensei were sparring, shirtless, dripping with sweat and unrivalled manliness.

"Happy?"

"Captain, you're the best!"


	402. Forlorn

Jyuushiro and Rukia

**Forlorn**

_"7. Make sure a new puppy knows it is okay to be on their own"_

He felt very bad at climbing out of the window, he really did.

Later on, over a drink with his best friend, he would begin to feel very, very guilty about it, but right now, it seemed to be the only plausible option. The door to his office was locked behind him, hopefully it would be five minutes before she came knocking again. That was enough time for a Captain to escape his Lieutenant for a well needed breather.

It wasn't that he didn't like Rukia- in fact, he thought that she was intelligent, forward-thinking, and very adept at the job, but the problem was, she didn't seem to believe the same thing. He couldn't sit for more than three minutes in his office before she started knocking and asking him a question that she already knew the answer to. When he tried to leave, she would follow him, a list of questions in hand.

Honestly, he thought he'd had more rest when Sentaro and Kiyone were bickering over him.

And it would have been easy to tell her to leave him alone, it would have been easier to tell her that she should sort it out herself and get on with her job, but she just looked so _forlorn_ all of the time, as if a harsh word would break her heart.

And Jyuushiro had never been very good at being mean.

So really, the window was the only option.

One leg out of it, she knocked on his door again. He stared in horror over his shoulder.

"Captain? I just have one more question about the recruitment forms?"

Forgetting his aching hip and his age, he hopped out, and ran for it.


	403. Lungs

Kensei and Hisagi

**Lungs**

"_8. Use kind facial expressions and a friendly voice"_

Hisagi tried very, very hard not to be afraid of his new Captain, but it was a task that nearly every other person in Division Nine failed miserably at. They were all far too used to Tousen's mild, quiet voice and his unreadable facial expressions to really understand why their new Captain came bursting through the doors each day, face like thunder and eyes bright with poorly concealed impatience.

"Get the hell out of the way!"

"Get these halls cleaned!"

"Assemble for practise!"

"Spar!"

"Quicker, what the hell is wrong with you!"

"That's pathetic, what happened to shinigami whilst I was away!"

Hisagi found himself growing more and more annoyed by the way his Captain spoke to him, more and more resentful of the polite bows and calm tone of voice that he had been taught to use when addressing his superiors. As his new Captain sat, feet up on the desk, rubbing a preserving wax onto the leather of the hilt of his zanpakuto (and getting smudges across his arms and the piles of neatly ordered paperwork that Hisagi had placed on his desk that morning), he felt himself gradually becoming more and more enraged.

Snap!

He looked down, and realised that he had broken his pencil in half. Kensei looked up at the sound, and saw that Hisagi was staring.

"What are you gawking at?"

Full of frustration, Hisagi couldn't help himself.

"Do you have to do that in here, Captain? We have an equipment room for a reason, so use it."

Kensei grinned at him from across the room, a wide and amused smile that threw Hisagi, who had been expecting anger in retaliation.

"I've been waiting for you to drop that prissy attitude."

To Hisagi's surprise, he got to his feet, zanpakuto and cloth in one hand, pot of wax in the other. He called over his shoulder in the doorway, leaving his Lieutenant behind him.

"If you need me, I'll be in the equipment room."

Hisagi stared, bemused, after him, and slowly sat back down in his chair.

So that was all it took?

He dropped the bowing soon after.


	404. Mould

Kenpachi and Yachiru

**Mould**

"_9. Make sure you are feeding him the right food"_

Kenpachi stared with growing panic at the empty cupboards in the Eleventh Division canteen. He vaguely remembered that there was some nervous looking person who came in and cooked food for the division, but he never really paid attention to him. Where the hell did he keep the food?

"Ken-chan!"

He felt sweat beading on his forehead, and started on the next cupboard.

"Ken-chan! I'm hungry!"

"I know! Shut the hell up whilst I find something!"

"But I'm hungry!"

In desperation, he turned to the fridge, and yanked the door open hard enough to break it off the appliance. He threw it against the far wall, but then had to step back from the fridge at the smell coming from it.

Cautiously, he moved forward again to peer in at the contents. The source of the horrific smell seemed to be discarded lunch boxes. Did their cook make them lunch boxes, once upon a time? Why hadn't he known that? And more importantly, why had no one thrown them out? Didn't they employ some sort of cleaner type person, to deal with that kind of thing? He could have sworn he had seen a letter from such a person on his desk, complaining about something. In fact, it might have been a letter of resignation.

Ah, that would be that then.

He prised open the lid of the one on top and recoiled at the sight of the luminous blue mould that was spotting the rice inside.

"KEN-CHAN!"

He stared at the rice.

"I'M HUNGRY!"

Praying for forgiveness, he scraped the top layer of rice off, and hoped for the best.

"I'm coming, you brat!"

She finally stopped her screeching as she ate, and he began to feel quite self-satisfied, and proud of his quick thinking.

He had to revise his smugness an hour later, when she threw up all over his shoulder.


	405. Silence

Byakuya and Renji

**Silence  
**

"_10. Above all, be patient!"  
_

The first few days at the Sixth Division had been a mad whirl of confusion, tripping over things, and getting things wrong.

In fairness, the following year had not been much different, except he didn't fall over things quite as often.

And from then onwards… well, it was the same as well. Even now, when he was so used to the division that he had even brought in his own chair to sit behind his desk, and he now finally knew what all of the different types of paperwork were meant to be for, he still found himself stuttering awkwardly, making mistakes, and just being downright clumsy.

Take today, for instance.

His Captain's usual cup of tea had been sent through at the normal time in the mid afternoon, and he had followed it through, carrying a stack of papers balanced in one hands, and Byakuya's Captain's haori in the other, which had just been returned from the laundry services.

"Renji, I have that report signed for you to return."

Without thinking, he reached to try and pick up the report, trying to keep everything in his hand at the same time, rather than just putting things down and then doing so. Awkward, the pile of papers slipped, knocking over his Captain's cup, spilling the hot tea all over his desk, spreading out around the desk.

To his horror, he watched it begin to drip, slowly, onto Byakuya's lap.

"I'm so sorry, Captain!"

Byakuya closed his eyes, praying for patience, and said nothing. Renji, in a panic, began trying to mop up the spilled tea, only succeeding to spread it further around the desk, blurring the ink on countless numbers of reports, notes and various other bits of no doubt vital paperwork. He felt the blood rush to his head and he blushed, biting his lip, waiting for the reprimand that was no doubt coming.

Holding in his rage, he replied in a tight voice.

"It's fine, Renji. Just… leave."

Though he had meant to show lenience, Renji left the office quivering in fear, convinced that his punishment would be quick in coming.

He spent the rest of the day staring over his shoulder, convinced that wayward pieces of Senbonzakura would catch him up the ass.

As a result, he tripped another three times, and spilled two more cups of tea.

The next time it happened, Byakuya discovered that it was far easier for both of them to respond with a sternly worded reprimand. Oddly, it seemed to make Renji feel better.


	406. Nightingale

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Ichigo and Gin

**Nightingale **

When Ichigo Kurosaki looked back reflectively at former-Captain Ichimaru- and he found himself doing so more than you might imagine, due to his confusion about the man- he always did so with a feeling of division. He simply did not know what to think about him. Oh, he had read the profiles that Hanatarou had sent on his request, copied from Fourth Division records and snuck across with Renji. There were the psychological reports from the mandatory sessions that seated officers had to attend, the notes from Unohana.

From before and after the Winter War, the results were unanimous; the man had been strange. He had made people feel uncomfortable, and no one had really been that surprised when it had all come out that he was a traitor.

He had read these in his own slow, deliberating way, and still had not come to his own conclusions.

Also included were copies of the interviews conducted on the seated officers of his division, shortly after he left, and the interviews on those he was known to be close with. He read the transcripts, the confusion and hurt obvious in the short answers given by Lieutenants Matsumoto and Kira, and that confused him all the more.

People seemed convinced that Ichimaru Gin was a bad man.

The only two who had ever liked, even loved him, believed it.

He had died a meaningless death, never reconciling himself or apologising for his actions.

He died a traitor.

But, no matter how he looked at it, Ichigo couldn't help but think that all of that wasn't quite right. Maybe it was because he was stood outside of the Soul Society himself, and he wasn't as indoctrinated into the prejudices that people held there. Maybe it was just because he had only seen the man a handful of times.

Maybe he was just thinking too hard about it, but nonetheless…

His zanpakuto didn't fit.

Ichigo didn't know why he thought this, but it seemed true.

There seemed to be a fundamental need to protect in that blade, and he didn't understand why no one else saw it. He could hear it, in his head, '_shoot to kill,_', and see it in the air. The blade could sabotage from within, it broke off a part of itself to destroy a victim.

It destroyed itself for victory, and that was what Gin had done.

He had imploded his own life, honour, and feelings, to stop a bad man, and he had done so alone.

Ichimaru Gin had left his entire life behind him to embark on a mission. True, he had left a lot of people not displeased to see the back of him, but there were people who cared, who loved him. He was a man alone in the dark, with a plan that he did not know would work, a man who, Ichigo was sure, knew there was no hope of survival, little hope of success.

That didn't seem like bad man, to him.

A nightingale sang, a sweet and long note, and Ichigo did not look for it. The sun had set a long time ago, but the bird sang on.

He rested a hand on the gravestone. It was not large, nor obvious; the inscription bore no name, for that might have brought abuse on it. Someone had been recently and left flowers. Ichigo didn't need to check the small card tucked inconspicuously in the small bouquet.

He was sorry that Ichimaru Gin had died so suddenly. With a little hindsight, Ichigo had realised that the former-Captain was a man that he would had very much liked to talk to.

But here, in this quiet place, reconciled only with death, Ichigo remembered, and in his own way, grieved for a man that he had never known.

Now, the nightingale's song kept him company in the peaceful dark, and Gin Ichimaru found peace.


	407. Pool

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Matsumoto and Nanao

**Pool**

"You need to have confidence, Nanao!"

"I have confidence Matsumoto, I just don't feel the need to walk about in my underwear to prove it!"

"Ah, come now, it's not your underwear, it's a swimming costume."

"I have a swimming costume, Matsumoto! It doesn't requite me to walk around in strings!"

"Yes, yes, but it is old and very unflattering and not at all fashionable. And there is nothing wrong with my strings!"

She pulled a pose, the three triangles of red fabric pulled tight across her body by said strings, tied in bows at various points around her body, her breasts straining against the fragile and minuscule coverings. A male shop assistant, taking some unwanted clothes off the rack, nearly fainted at the sight.

"We're buying it, Nanao."

The next day, by the pool, Matsumoto revealed her latest project, though Nanao was very unwilling to play along. She had to give her a stiff drink and a pep-talk about how-if-you-never-get-confident-you'll-never-get-that-guy-that-I-know-you-like-but-wont-admit-to-it.

She pulled the towel, quick and sharp, baring Nanao to the world.

The pink string bikini with gold beading caught the sunlight.

From across the pool, Shunsui gave her a thumbs up, and Matsumoto knew that her bet had been won.


	408. Corner

Requested by jquackers- thank you

Carries on from 109. If you can't remember this one (and neither could I) it involved Isane being forced to give a therapy session to Tatsuki, and things not going the way that they were supposed to.

Isane and Tatsuki

**Corner**

Isane felt herself shrinking into the corner at the full force of Tatsuki's words.

"Lieutenant, if you let everyone walk all over you for the rest of your life then you are never going to get anywhere in life! How do you expect ever to make yourself happy if you are just going to hide your feelings from everyone?"

She stared, in a rather panicked kind of way, at the notes in her hand. After last time, Unohana had provided her with some tips and some advice, but none of them seemed to be working.

"Ah, Tatsuki, maybe if we could talk about you-"

"There you go, deflecting again."

"But this therapy session is supposed to be for you, not me…"

Tatsuki glared at her, and it was ferocious.

"Always with the excuses, Lieutenant."

"But it is true!"

Isane felt indignation rise up inside her, a feeling that she was as used to as she was used to repressing it. But, perhaps because of Tatsuki's dark eyes glinting at her from across the room, perhaps because of the headache forming at her temples, and perhaps just because she was too tired to giving a fuck, she let it rise and fill her.

"I am the therapist, you are the patient, now will you shut the hell up and let me analyse you!"

Tatsuki sat back in her chair, grinning. It was good to see her coming out of that corner, at long last.

"Whatever you say, boss."


	409. Last

Requested by Editor-chan- thank you

Kenpachi and Byakuya

**Last**

The tension was mounting; the battle being waged was fierce and, as of yet, undecided. At the moment it stood at a painfully unsure stalemate, as both sides waited for the opportune moment.

Kenpachi glared across at his combatant.

"It's your last chance, pretty boy. Do something, or I'll come over there and make you fucking dance."

There was no response, just a cold stare from an unimpressed face. Byakuya had heard many boast like that before, and Kenpachi, though fearsome, was hardly the most terrifying person he had ever fought against.

"C'mon, spend more time thinking and less time flicking your hair around and we might get somewhere."

A slow tick was beginning to form in Byakuya's forehead.

"Silence, cretin."

"I'll shut up when you fucking do something! This is a fight, not a tea party!"

"All war is beauty, and all beauty is refined."

"The hell does that even mean?"

Byakuya folded his hands, with an air of smugness.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Kenpachi rolled his eyes.

"I'd believe you if you put your money where your mouth is and actually did something."

With a slight sigh of exasperation, Byakuya did something.

"Checkmate."

Kenpachi stared down at the board sat between the two of them, utterly stumped.

"Fuck me."

The smugness coming off Byakuya was now almost enough to generate heat. With a sigh, Kenpachi started moving the pieces back to where they had been originally.

"Best of three, pretty boy."


	410. Keep

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Gin and Urahara

**Keep**

Their smiles were similar. People never thought about it like that, because they were so different at the same time; perhaps no one ever looked hard enough. Maybe no one ever tried to look at it, or maybe people grew tired of trying to figure out why they got a shiver- in different but equally unsettling ways- from the smile of those two, very different men.

Their smiles were both hiding things, that was what no one ever noticed.

They were the smiles of men who had secrets to keep; the smiles of men who knew more than they should do.

And that was the truth; they both did. About things that they had made and people that they knew and the potentiality of the future and everything that might come to pass and everything that might go well and everything that might go wrong.

They were men who knew enough to make or break you; men who could hold the entirety of your life in the palm of your hand.

But they smiled about it.

And not in a smile that was intended to keep it a secret; not a smile that you could not see through. They smiled at you to let you know that they were thinking, to let you know that they knew something that you did not.

Smiles to patronise.

They could let you in on the secret, those smiles said, but we don't think that you would understand.


	411. Party

Requested by mitsu-kun- thank you

Yachuru and the Eleventh Division

**Party**

It was Yachiru's birthday.

Well, it probably wasn't Yachiru's birthday; no one had any idea when it would be. Yachiru didn't have a clue herself, and if Kenpachi had ever decided on one (it was a nice romantic notion that Yumichika had thought about sometimes, that Yachiru's birthday could be the day that Kenpachi and Yachiru found each other or whatnot) he wasn't forthcoming on the subject, and frankly, Yumichika wasn't hopeful. It wasn't quite Kenpachi's thing.

Yachiru, thought, had decided that it was her birthday, and as such, wanted a party.

Children's parties tend towards the jelly and ice-cream, cake and balloons sort of thing. Clowns and magicians, bouncy castles and pin the tail on the donkey. 'Happy Birthday' banners, that sort of thing.

But this was the Eleventh Division.

They do things differently there.

Instead of more traditional games, they had pin the tail on the unranked shinigami, which resulted in a lot of tied up shinigami staring with horror at the long pins that Yumichika had acquired for the game. Lemonade and orange juice was replaced with sake, and trying to ask those responsible for cooking in the Eleventh division to make cake and jelly was an impossibility; instead, as there normally were, there were large platters piled high with meat.

There were pink paper plates though.

Yachiru thought the whole thing wonderful.


	412. Perfume

Requested by Dragons of Egypt- thank you

Unohana x Isane

**Perfume**

Unohana doesn't think that Isane has a clue of the effect that she has on people. She may be quiet, and may hide her beauty behind reservations and shyness, but it is still hard to miss. Many a patient has left her care with a broken heart that wasn't there when they first came in.

She doesn't mind that, because she knows that Isane is hers, and always will be hers alone. They have been each others one and only for far too long to allow doubt, now.

Isane also doesn't understand how she can affect Unohana.

She seems to have an uncanny ability to switch off her personal feelings when she's at work- that, or she is very good at hiding them. Far better, it seems to Unohana, than should be fair. Sometimes, she has to avert her eyes from Isane for fear that she wont be able to hold back the wave of love that fills her at every smile, every stare, every awkwardly elegant gesture.

The worst is when Isane passes too close, and Unohana cannot avoid the smell of her, the scent of her skin and her shampoo and her warmth that evolves into the most beautiful and intoxicating of natural perfumes.

It makes her heart beat faster, makes her fists clench in a desire that she had never felt until the whirlwind of emotions that make up love had hit her.

Even now, when she should be used to it, it still makes her want to grasp Isane by the wrist, and pull her into the nearest empty room to lavish her. And, in fact, she has had to do so on more than one occasion.

She is glad that most of the time it is masked by the plastic-and-talcum smell of scrubs and surgical gloves, by the chemical smell of disinfectant and administered medicine.

Without it, she didn't think that they'd be able to get anything done.


	413. Sell

Requested by ReaderWriterFan- thank you! This was a 'D'oh' moment when I had planned what I wanted to write and then realised that I had misread your prompt as 'lightning', rather than 'lighting'.

Nanao x Shunsui

**Sell**

The man was trying very, very hard to sell the mirror to her, she thought. Much harder than he should have been, really, seeing as how she thought it was quite obvious that she had no desire to be here, let alone any inclination to purchase any of the flashy, showy items that this shop stocked. It was the sort of place that she couldn't stand, full of pretentious shop assistants with heavily made up faces on the women and expressions of contempt on those of the men.

And tight trousers. Everyone seemed to wear tight trousers.

She couldn't help but sneer at the woman who had appeared at her shoulder, offering her a sample of their new home fragrance.

Really, why her Captain seemed to think that this was an appropriate place to spend the Division budget for 'essential repairs', she would never know. Still, it was better than the Eleventh Division, who instead of spending theirs on fixing the holes in the walls and the gaps in the roofs, bought in an inordinate amount of alcohol, thus leading to even more holes in the walls.

Although, even so, she really thought that the five foot tall, blown glass fish that her Captain was currently looking at seemed to be one step too far.

"Captain, we really don't need that."

"But Nanao-chan, it's just so pretty!"

"Yes, Captain. But that doesn't mean it is _necessary_."

"Oh, you're just boring."

She shook her head. Perhaps she was. But Shunsui was the only person who, on a quick errand to buy a light bulb for his office, would feel the need to go to the most expensive interior design shop he could find, and contemplate blowing a whole eight months worth of maintenance money on a glass fish that he'd only end up breaking when he was drunk, anyway.

She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the pushy salesmen to the lighting section, where great, ostentatious crystal jostled for space amongst modern, cut steel contraptions and large, cast-iron creations, all of which seemed entirely unnecessary.

Of course, Shunsui seemed to disagree.

"Ooh, look at that one!"

The one he was pointing at was enormous, and took up a whole section of the wall to itself. It was a contraption made of mirrors in different shapes, lit with spotlight that hung in different places on the wires that connected the mirrors, angled so that the light from them went in different directions, some reflecting off the glass.

Nanao cast a glance at her reflection. The subtle tones of light gave the viewer an incredibly flattering view of their complexion and face.

Shunsui had come up behind her, and rested his heavy arms on her shoulders.

"Look at that beautiful girl in the mirror."

"Shut up. We're looking for light bulbs."

He nodded.

"But look what I have found instead- a vision of beauty."

She tried to elbow him away from her, but he clung on none the less, pressing a kiss against her neck that made her blush. To her horror, he could see in the mirror, and he kissed her again, behind her ear, to see how much pinker she might turn.

After a few minutes she stopped struggling against him, and, resigned, leant back against his chest. He hugged her to him, smiling.

"You are a time waster, do you know that? I am never coming shopping with you again."

From a pocket somewhere, he extracted a small cardboard box, which quite clearly displayed the word 'light bulb' on it.

"But look, Nanao! I already found one for you!"

She glared at him.

"Where did you find that?"

"They were on a stand by the doors as we came in the shop."

"So we've been wandering around here for no reason?"

"That's not true. I've figured out your birthday present already! A nice, shiny mirror. And maybe a light bulb, to keep you happy."

He moved back from her with a huff as her elbow made its mark in his stomach, but she did press a quick kiss to his cheek as she took the light bulb off him and hurried him to the check out.


	414. Experience

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Hitsugaya and Yamamoto

**Experience**

No one really knows why people get the zanpakuto they do, least of all the zanpakuto. People see patterns everywhere in them, but no theory ever put forward has been consistent enough to be believable. Perhaps it was simply random chance; perhaps it was not.

In the Gotei 13 there are thirteen Captains, each with their own ways and their own problems. They have their own strengths and their own paths in life, and for the most part, very little in common.

This holds true for their zanpakuto, as well. There are few shared traits between Suzumebachi and Minazuki, and certainly no love lost between Ashisogi Jizo and Tenken. Some were simple in their execution and beautiful with it, like Senbonzakura, whilst others were complicated and detailed, such as Sogyo no Kotowari. Some, everyone knew, like Shinso. Others remained mysterious in their true nature, like Katen Kyokotsu, and there was even one who had not yet even given its name.

However, it was odd, the Captain Commander had often thought, that no one had noticed that only two Captains held true elemental zanpakuto. Even odder, that no one had thought about the fact that they were both the strongest of their type.

Ryujin Jakka, it was true, was famous as a zanpakuto but the details of her power were not well documented or well known- after all, it was a very rare occurrence when he had to release her fire at all. That might have been reason enough for the link never to have been drawn, but her name cropped up in many an academic study of zanpakuto and of elemental power, and the details of her were registered on the shinigami database.

In comparison, though Hyorinmaru did not have the same legacy surrounding both the blade and its wielder (yet), it was used much more often and to rather spectacular an effect. As such it was much more widely recognised, though not as well studied, and though Hitsugaya's rietsu was often accompanied with the chill of a breeze brushing across newly formed ice, perhaps people just were not _thinking _that much about it yet.

But the Captain Commander did, because he was old enough and experienced enough to notice patterns and anomalies before most others did.

What did it mean, that another Captain had appeared with an elemental zanpakuto, and one that was so different from his own.

Heat against chill, flame against ice. The two had fought harder against each other than any other natural element. They were natural enemies, and always had been: fire kept man alive against winter's chill, stealing the icy reward of death.

Ryujin Jakka and Hyorinmaru never came up against each other; in fact, in each other's presence, both sealed their powers so tightly with themselves that it made the Captain Commander wonder.

Were they waiting for the moment to fight, or were they afraid?

In Hyorinmaru, did Ryujin Jakka see a young, stronger sword, a threat that was growing? His zanpakuto has never said anything on the subject, and the Captain Commander was wise enough not to push the matter.

And what of Hyorinmaru?

Did he see experience, strength, wisdom, and know that it was something he could not live up to?

The Captain Commander watched Toushiro Hitsugaya standing in line with the other Captains, and wondered whether it was a sign, a portent that, as yet, he could not understand.

Was there a threat there?

A natural successor?

He wondered.


	415. Part

Requested by Saluta-Blue- thank you

Jyuushiro

**Part**

Sometimes he had to wonder whether his whole part in this was over.

Those were the days when he woke up in so much pain that he thought he would explode from it; the days when he wished that he were dead. Those were the moments that he believed the most that his time had gone, that the age of his strength had passed and that he should just leave it alone, move on. Leave the Gotei, leave the Seireitei, move back home or out into the mountains somewhere quiet where the air was clean and he could breathe properly, perhaps.

Breathing may not be such a labour, if he didn't have to leaf through so many folders, raising so much dust from their pages.

Perhaps he was just growing old.

Perhaps this wasn't his time any more.

Some days he had no strength to weigh his own zanpakuto in his own two hands; those days were the worst.

He could leave; it would be easy.

But then, some days he woke up as if it had all been a dream, those long days of illnesses.

Some days, he felt like he could still do anything, just like he had been able to when he was young.

Some days, he felt like his part still was not over.

And it was those moments that made him stay.


	416. Thank

Requested by LoveScythe- thank you

Gin x Toushiro

**Thank**

Here, at the end of everything, he had to thank him.

He watched Matsumoto's tears fall against the cool skin of the traitor who lay dying on the concrete and wished that he did not have to do so, but he knew that to not would be something that he would regret for the rest of his life. Matsumoto was lead away by one of her fellow Lieutenant's after they were sure that the traitor was dead, and when no one was in sight, Toushiro went to sit beside the body, cross legged.

"Hey."

Gin cracked open one eye.

"Did I fool 'em?"

His voice was too full of pain to be flippant, but the intention was there. Toushiro nodded.

"They've gone, now."

Gin sighed, and closed his eye again.

"Sorry I didn't tell ya what I was going to do."

Toushiro shrugged. He had had his suspicions about his lover a long time before he had actually abandoned the Soul Society for Aizen. There had always been a feeling of anticipation about Gin, as if he were waiting for something.

"It's alright."

"Not going to say, 'sorry that you're dying'?"

Toushiro shook his head.

"You deserve to die."

Gin smiled, at that, but he didn't open his eyes.

"But I am sorry that we are parting."

Toushiro's hand met his, and they held on to each other tightly, clinging to what they once had been together.

"So am I."

His eyes opened, and they stared at Toushiro, full of pain and fear and regret. It had all been for nothing, in the end. Only Kurosaki had a chance of stopping Aizen now, and despite the fact that he had resigned himself to death a long time ago, he was still afraid.

"It hurts."

Toushiro nodded; both of them knew that there was nothing that he could do to ease the pain, nothing that he could help with without raising the suspicions of the shinigami still in the area. A part of him was not sure whether he even wanted to help him.

Gin's eyes slipped shut and they waited their together, holding on to each other's hand, waiting for the end to come. Toushiro watched the chest of the man that he thought he might love rise and fall for the very last time, and let go of his hand, laying it gently across the former-Captain's chest. He went to his knees, kneeling over the body, and leant close enough to Gin's face to kiss it.

"Thank you."

And then he stood, and left the place of death, feeling a little better.


	417. Spine

Requested by 'Guest'- whoever you are, thank you!

Shunsui x Ukitake x Starrk

**Spine**

The evening sunlight makes everything look beautiful, casts golden light over the three figures on the gentle slope.

They lie side by side, torso's bare from the noon heat, uniforms abandoned earlier in the day.

There is no fear of interruption: the land is private and owned by the Thirteenth Division, exclusively for the Captain's use to recuperate in peace from his illnesses. They can act how they like here, and they do.

There is no noise but for bird song and the whisper of the breeze.

Shunsui traces the curves of their backs, one hand for each torso either side of him on the grass. Starrk fell asleep hours ago, on his front, head resting on his arms, and Jyuushiro is only half-awake, dozing in the cool evening breeze. There is a frown on Starrk's face as if he is thinking of something that pains him, but Jyuushiro looks calm, happy, the illnesses that plague him giving him a respite, at least for today. Jyuushiro is slightly on his side, turned in to the other two, his hair splayed across the hillside and the whiteness of it marred with strands of grass that have tangled themselves in it.

Shunsui smiles.

It is a rare moment when it is he left awake with no desire to sleep, but it has been a day for quiet contemplation and secret smiles, and he is content to watch the two men pressed up against his side. There is nothing that he wants to do or think about, nothing that he wants to talk about, he just wants peace.

The curve of their spines is soft, the shape of muscle defined under their skin. They are both so much paler than him, but they glow in the soft light, and they feel soft under Shunsui's fingertips.

Starrk mutters in his sleep and his frown deepens. Shunsui strokes a strand of hair from his face but it wakes him, and for a moment he seems disorientated, as if he does not know where he is or why sleep had taken him. Shunsui's smile seems to soothe him but that echo of loneliness remains on his face as his eyes close again.

Shunsui lies back again, feeling the warmth of Starrk's thigh against his and the weight of Jyuushiro's hand on his stomach, and knows that there will never be a moment as sweet as this.

If he ever hoped for peace, he knows it will only be between these two men.


	418. Doll

It's been so long since Ururu was in the manga, had to wiki what the hell she could even do…

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Urahara and Kenpachi, Ururu and Yachiru

**Doll**

"Tag, you're it!"

Ururu nodded patiently, and started to chase after Yachiru. Much to the Lieutenant's irritation, who was used to being able to speed away from any chaser, the other girl kept a steady pace behind her. Yachiru skidded a little on the sand and in that moment Ururu caught up with her.

"Tag."

Kenpachi's eyes widened. Ohh, shit.

It was a moment of horrific clarity where everything suddenly went in slow motion, and he became very aware that even though the two girls, playing innocently, looked like dolls, dolls were very easy to break, and Yachiru had never been very good at playing with her toys. Particularly when they started playing back.

"Err, Urahara, you might wanna get your kid out of there."

Urahara's eyes seemed bright behind the shadow of his hat, and he flicked his fan open to hide his smirk.

"Why would you say that, Captain Zaraki?"

Yachiru's face had gone very, very red.

"Well, no one has every caught Yachiru at tag before, and she ain't a good loser."

Ururu was running away at her loping, gentle pace.

The two shinigami sat there watching their daughters as Yachiru barrelled after Ururu, screaming aloud. As she drew close, Ururu span on her heel, her eyes going blank.

"Senren Bakusatsu Taiho."

Zaraki's eyes widened, and Urahara's fan snapped closed.

"Genocide mode."

One moment Yachiru was there, the next she was in the rubble of a broken wall, dust billowing around her. Zaraki stared in bewilderment as Urahara chuckled next to him. Yachiru jumped to her feet, her hair wild and her face streaked with brick dust.

"Ken-chan! Ururu is fun! Can we come again soon?"

Kenpachi stared as the game of tag commenced, and couldn't help but wonder what other weapons Urahara had stashed in his Shoten.


	419. Consequences

419

Requested by Olinek- thank you

Renji and Grimmjow

**Consequences**

"Y'know, I think that you exaggerate how good Ichigo is in bed."

Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow at him, mouth lilted, bemused. He had not wanted to come out tonight, but Ichigo had told him that he needed to make an effort to integrate himself with the shinigami, and he didn't mind Renji that much. He was very easy to wind up.

"Yeah, right."

Renji slammed his glass back down on the table. It was just the two of them left now, late into the night, the others gone back to beds. Grimmjow didn't drink (as an Arrancar, it didn't have any effect on him anyway) but Renji was rather worse for wear. He never would have brought up this conversation otherwise. Even now, the tips of his ears were turning red.

"Nah, really. He's far too serious to ever do some of the stuff you claim he's done."

Grimmjow rested his head on his fist, elbow on the table.

"Coming from the guy who can't fit his cock up Kuchiki's ass, because the stick takes up too much room?"

Renji pointed at him. (Although, he actually pointed about eight centimetres to the left of Grimmjow, because his coordination and vision were a little bit shot by this point).

"You're just jealous!"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, and downed his glass of water in a manner that was infuriatingly cool.

"Hardly."

Renji scrutinised him from across the table, pulling an expression that was supposed to be intelligent, but unfortunately made him look as if he had just had a stroke.

"But you are lying about Ichigo."

"I fucking well am not."

"You are, you are!"

"Fucking watch it, Abarai."

"I know Ichigo, he just isn't like that."

"You don't know shit. Just because your Captain is as boring as sin, doesn't mean you should project your frustrations onto me, bastard."

Renji slammed his fist into the wood of the table, making the empty glasses shake.

"My Captain is wild in the sack, asshole."

"Don't fucking believe it."

"Not my fault if you don't, you're clear so frustrated yourself that you're making shit up!"

"Kurosaki is a bitch in my bed, and I don't need to prove it to you to know that it is the truth."

Renji was red in the face with indignation by now.

"It is the truth, I'll fucking prove it!"

Whether intuition or the growing silence around the bar, Renji suddenly had a feeling that there was something wrong. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but from Grimmjow's expression, it was something just behind him. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head, to find two imposing figures standing right behind him.

Fear for his life swept over him, and he turned back around, praying that this was all a horrible dream.

Grimmjow was laughing now. The bastard.

"Renji."

He cringed. He did _not _like the tone of his Captain's voice.

"It is time to leave now."

He nodded, but didn't move, like a small mammal frozen in fear at the sight of a much larger predator. He slowly became aware of Ichigo's spluttering from behind him, and his mind (which was sobering up quickly) was glad that his wasn't the only red face in the room.

Grimmjow kicked him under the table, startling the life back into him.

Slowly, he turned his head around again, and caught sight of his Captain's face. It was cool, emotionless, and completely blank. Shit.

He followed his Captain out meekly, to the sound of Grimmjow's laughter.


	420. Madrigal

For all those lovers of the Fullbringers out there- this is my first time at writing any of them. Wish me luck. More to come of them.

Requested by raindrops 28- thank you

Ginjo and Tsukishima

**Madrigal**

There are songs that are meant to be sung alone, and those that are not, and he has known for nearly all of his life that the man he met that fateful day sung a solo in a madrigal, the leading voice in a song meant for many. And indeed, that was the case: the former substitute shinigami walked to his own music, but others fell in behind him, joined in, harmonized with his spirit and his character and everything that he stood for. He lead them, in every way describable.

He knew that was the case, and was more than happy to be one of those voices, a simple harmony in the cacophony that sometimes seemed so beautiful, and other times so chaotic.

But if there were many verses to the song and many voices to sing it, he knew that his was the first to lift up to follow the charismatic man. He still remembered the touch of his hand against his face, ruffling his hair, as if it had only happened yesterday, and he knows that if this is all that his life is to be, he will be content with that.

He knows that one day, Ginjo's song will fall to silence, and when it does, he will follow behind.

He will follow him to the end.

And where that path will lead he does not know, but the heat of a revenge that is not his will guide him, and love for a man that rescued him is all the home that he needs, and though a thunderstorm of emotions echo around his head he will keep his face calm, keep his actions collected, and do his duty to his savoir.

Because Ginjo leads the song, and he will simply follow.

The bitter madrigal haunts him as he lies dying, but he knows that his word has been kept, duty has been served, and that death is not the end.

It is only a doorway, after all.


	421. Absolute

Requested by maekosamasan- thank you

Aizen x Starrk

**Absolute**

Aizen knew that the world was about to be his to wrack or ruin, without concern or argument. In only a few months he would be able to hold the many worlds of this existence in the palm of his hand and do with them as he wished. The thought was beautiful, and the success was practically palpable, something that he could taste on the air.

His power, he knew, was absolute.

But there was something, the smallest of things, that picked at him, that he couldn't ignore. He should have had the world in his thrall and for the most parts, he did. Whether people looked at him with reverence, fear or loathing, they still looked at him.

The figure in the bed shifted a little, and Aizen watched him through narrowed eyes.

The Primera rose from the bed, the sheets falling from his tall, muscular frame, stretching upwards. And therein lay the problem. He shrugged into his uniform and left the room without a word, a glance, with complete and utter apathy.

Aizen found himself frowning at the closing door.

Starrk showed no signs of disloyalty, and there was no doubt about his abilities. He was here to stay, and never showed any disrespect. He was no loose cannon like Grimmjow or even Nnoitra- he followed orders to the letter. But there was something about him that bothered Aizen.

He just didn't seem to care.

No hatred, no love, no longing, no terror. He wasn't doing it out of fear or feeling. In fact, even though Aizen was unwilling to admit it, it seemed that Starrk felt nothing for him.

He came to him willingly, without argument, that much was true. There was no affection in their meetings, no signs of emotion except for the involuntary and unreadable expressions that flickered across his face when Aizen pushed into him. The only sign that he even enjoyed the experience was the silent release that spilled out over himself, leaving his stomach wet to the touch.

It felt as if he held the world in his hand but for this one man who refused to be exploited, who refused to even be touched by his presence, who defied everything.

And as the door shut to, Aizen closed his eyes.

Absolute power found itself bowing in respect to the effect of absolute apathy.

When a man cares for nothing, no care can reach the man.

He truly was untouchable.


	422. Enough

Sasakibe

**Enough**

He had denied himself everything.

Power. A Captaincy. Even a family, for he had always known that he could only give his life to one person at a time, and that position had already been claimed. He could have become anything, could have lead a division, stood as an equal to all of those shinigami who he was equal to in strength.

He had gained his bankai through decades of work and training, because he knew that if a threat ever came to the Captain Commander, then it would come from high up, and a shikai would not have been enough.

Perhaps, in hindsight, he had been foolish never to reveal it in battle. Though he had trained with it for years, he had never spent the time finding out how it would work in real battle- something which he now regretted. If he had have done, perhaps he would have stood more of a chance.

But he knew that if it was known that he held bankai, soon enough a promotion would have been in order, would have been unavoidable, and that would not have done.

He had made a promise once, you see.

At the time it had felt momentous, and he had followed it every day of not inconsiderate life to such an extent that, now, it felt as if there was no other way to live his life.

He had sworn his duty and his allegiance to his Captain Commander, and with him he had remained, until the day finally came when a threat presented himself.

And now, he could feel the copper sweetness of blood in his throat, and knew that he did not have long left for this world. He touched the hilt of his zanpakuto, and reached one, bloodied hand to grasp the shoulder of his Captain, staining the haori.

Yamamoto smiled down at him, as if to tell him that it was okay.

As his eyes closed, for the final time, he simply prayed.

_Let it all have been enough._


	423. Antibiotics

Requested by Nanashi XIII- thank you!

Kenpachi x Hanatarou

**Antibiotics**

Treating any member of the Eleventh Division was not a task that any Fourth Division shinigami looked forward to doing, least of all their Captain. He had been the most feared patient in the Division until it became known that there was a certain someone who seemed to have an _understanding _with Kenpachi Zaraki, an understanding that was never discussed or questioned, out of fear for their lives.

So, when Kenpachi staggered into the hospital, after being reported MIA after a large scale battle, Hanatarou Yamada was immediately called for.

Now, it must be known that Kenpachi did not come to the hospital because _he _thought that he needed treatment, but because he had been looking for someone, and it just so happened that they worked in this building. He didn't really understand why everyone was flapping about his wounds, until they got him to lie down in bed and took of his sandals, and he could see for the first time that most of his foot had turned an unpleasant white, streaked with unnatural looking green strands.

Cool.

Hanatarou arrived, and took control of the situation by immediately sending everyone out of the room. He wasn't stupid, and he knew full well that a crowd of faffing shinigami talking in soothing voices would only serve to enrage Zaraki all the more.

He approached the foot wearily, not saying a word to Kenpachi. Instead, he carefully examined the gangrene-ridden flesh until the Captain could bear the silence no longer.

"Oi, kid, you not going to welcome me back home?"

Hanatarou straightened up, and looked him dead in the eye, a feat that was only really possible because Kenpachi was lying down on the bed.

"No."

Kenpachi blinked.

"Why?"

Hanatarou began to raise a hand to wag a finger at Kenpachi whilst he lectured, but realised at the last minute that it would possibly be a near fatal idea for him to do so, and brought his arm back down to his side.

"Because you promised me that you would come back to me straight away, unhurt."

The great man on the bed shrugged.

"Not my fault I got stabbed in the food."

Hanatarou's voice was becoming squeaky with indignation.

"Maybe so, but you could have come home with the others instead of trying to find your own way home, getting lost, and developing gangrene! You made me worry! And you broke your promise."

Kenpachi shrugged.

"Tried to get back, but I had Yachiru with me."

Hanatarou puffed out his chest, glaring across at the Captain in a way that not many sane individuals would have the nerve to do so. Kenpachi rolled his eyes at the sight of him.

"I've been cut up on my arm, too. Smells pretty bad."

Hanatarou deflated, and worry flickered across his expression, as readable as an open book. He made his way around the bed to examine the arm that Kenpachi was indicating, but before he could even touch his sleeve the Captain had swept him up one handed, crushing him to his chest. Hanatarou squeaked indignantly against the unpleasant smell of man, dirt and sweat. Kenpachi held him tighter, until it was a little painful.

"Oh, alright. Welcome home."

He grinned, and loosened his grip enough for Hanatarou to look up, resting his chin on Kenpachi's sternum.

He caught the look in Kenpachi's eye.

"Oh no, you need a good dose of antibiotics, and that is _all._"

Kenpachi's expression changed into what could only be described as a leer. Hanatarou glared at him, warningly.

"Antibiotics first."

Kenpachi laughed, and it was a deep, throaty laugh, that tightened Hanatarou's abdomen and loosened his resolve.

"Do you always have to win?"

"That's a fucking stupid question."

The medicine, in the end, came second.


	424. God

Requested by SSHiei- thank you

Yamamoto

**God**

The Captain Commander of the Gotei 13 has not used his bankai in a long time, but it is still in living memory, although he often wishes that it was not. Despite Ryujin Jakka's voice in his head, day by day, begging him in her high, keening voice to let her free, he does not. He simply strokes the hilt of his old friend and lets her be.

Nothing is worth repeating the devastation of last time. No Quincy, renegade or would-be god would make it worth so. Not even Aizen.

So as he stands above the fake Karakura and watches the madness of battle, even though his bankai would solve everything, he does not even entertain the thought.

The last time he used it, was August ninth, nineteen forty-five.

He had been in the human world that time, too.

The worst part was, he had known what unleashing his bankai would mean. He had not gone about his task in ignorance, but knowing full well what he would accomplish.

The guilt has grown in him with time.

That is the problem with age.

He had seen the problems that occur when man has the power of a god, but he is staring to realise that a shinigami should not, either.

So he lets his zanpakuto rest, keeps his godhood still, and lets time flow on, hoping that one day, time will let him forget.

And more than anything, hoping that there will never be a need for a final solution again.


	425. Freckle

Requested by mitsu-kun

Kensei x Hisagi

**Freckle**

"What's that?"

Hisagi tried, and failed, to look over his shoulder. Kensei poked him, firmly but gently, on the line of his spine, between his shoulder blades.

"I don't know, I can't see my back."

"I've never seen it before."

Hisagi resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well, neither have I, clearly."

Kensei poked it again.

"It wasn't here yesterday."

Hisagi shrugged, resting his head against the pillow, tired from the day. It had been a beautiful scorching day, and the sparring sessions had been brutal in the heat. He and all the other male shinigami's had stripped down to the waists, as well as a few of the less shy female members of the Division as well. The sun had beaten down on all of them all day, and he was a distinctive shade darker than he had been when he had woken up this morning.

He could sense Kensei frowning.

"I think it's because you've spent too much time in the sun again."

Hisagi rolled his eyes, even though his Captain couldn't see. Spending time in the sun wasn't high on his list of concerns. Kensei didn't say anything more about it, but the next day, Hisagi was bemused to find a bottle of suntan lotion on his desk.

"Captain, what the hell is this?"

When he stared questioningly at his Captain, Kensei went slightly red, and muttered something under his breath.

Hisagi wouldn't have ever used it, had Kensei not offered to rub it in for him.


End file.
